The Gripes of an Apothecary, Circa 1925

in these drawers, I had all sorts of remedies for the things that plagued us day in and day out

but you didn't want antidotes,

you were a self made man,

immune to the corollaries the rest of us were exposed to

and so often, you took to your papers,

so that you could tell everyone how I was the Ms. Fixit,

and that I loved the idea of making this all better,

no, not better,

different---

yes, different,

more than I loved you

but you were an ailing man long before I went searching through this table,

in these booths,

within these partitions,

only to find that you were not afflicted with anything inimitable,

you merely disinterested and bored with compassion

and here I was, confined to my parlor,

a grave version of the soda jerk