Teal

I went to Galveston

and the fish swam in purple tanks and

brown waves, sometimes green-blue,

which is teal and I saw a seal and

a sea lion, the difference being that

one is big and athletic and the other

is a loaf of grey speckles.

I left my stuffed seal in Austin.

His name is Cashew. I bought

Cashew in the Teal and he

brought me such comfort there

and now when the teal turns to

blue, deep blue and cobalt and

scratched-up industrial cream

plastic on the plane, I miss his

blubbery stuffed animal fur.

Not everything is teal, but most

things are just as scary.

The Teal takes many forms.

The Teal is intense and my brain

can’t chemically cope with it.

I want to live a grey speckled life

like Cashew, as loaf-like as he looks

but mentally, a life without the

creams of plastic landfills

and the guilt of flying

but Cashew is not here so I

have to settle with summoning

vibrant peach pills from my purse,

I promise it’s all prescribed,

but it’s in a small baggie

next to my pads,

and it looks sketchy as hell

popping a pill on a plane but

no one comments on it so I must

look as desperate

as I feel.

And I feel Teal.