I asked her if she was suicidal, homicidal

She told me she didn’t have any idols

She’d been living in a state of survival

She said, “I was raised on the Bible”

“Everyone tells me I’m entitled”

“I don’t want kids”
“Sometimes I wonder if this is it”

I’m not a therapist 

But all she told me wasn’t the scariest

She had a pretty diamond on her finger 

Uncharacteristically, I let her linger

She finally said, “I never started the Zoloft”

“Maybe I just need some time off”

It was a million degrees that day 

As she sat and told me everything 

That she’d paid off all her debt 

That the sun had not yet set

That at 30 she still had a lot of life left 

She’d abandoned social media 

Sold a bunch of her old encyclopedias

It was tough after her husband’s death 

But she sold his car and the lawnmower 

Donated all his clothes

She took the stud out of her nose 

Left her cell phone right there 

Along with the full bottle of sertraline

I stared

She said, “We’re all going through some type of trial”
“I’m tired of living in denial”

“I’ll feel what there is to feel”

“I’m gonna go get a meal”

She said then she was headed to the ocean 

Told me her whole heart, her mind, her life was open 

She walked to the door and said, “Don’t worry, put it in my file”

Walked out the door and reminded me: “I don’t have any idols”