“Unless I get the right dose of Lithium”
Laughing Mildred says to Harvey at the counter,
“they say at the clinic I can’t tell the difference
between illusion and reality, whatever that means.”

“Not so loud,” Harvey says, hunching his shoulders,
spreading out his hands like patting something down.
“The other guys will hear you. You talk like its aspirin.”

“They all know I’m crazy anyway. Who cares what other
crazy people think? Besides, half those dames
in Beverly Hills with fancy hairdos
are on Lithium or Prozac. We’re all crazy. Anybody who goes on living has got to be crazy.”

“You got a point there,” Harvey says.
“I have big trouble too with what’s real,
especially when I wake up about three a.m. sleeping behind some trash bin in an alley.”