A Dating Service for Schizophrenics

There used to be a lady in Bellingham when I went to college at Western who would walk around town arguing with herself. Sometimes when I was fly fishing in the bay near the railroad tracks she would walk past. She would always say “hello”, so she must have been aware of what was going on around her, but then she’d go right back to her argument with the voices in her head. Thought of her today for some reason and jotted down this short poem.

A Dating Service for Schizophrenics

I decided the voices in my

head were just lonely,

aching for another with

multiply tongues and phrases

spinning through the neurological

mist. So they all got Tinder memberships

And kaleidoscopic Facebook pages

Where they can friend and unfriend

All they dramas they stir up in that

Bazaar conference call in my head. I won’t sign them up for Twitter though,

They’ve already spent way too much time twittering

On bridge ledges and on train tracks late at night

When too many of them have decided it’s time to end call.

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