The Margin

I sat in the office and took the hit.

I nodded when he told me I was sloppy.

I watched his mouth move

and thought about the cost of my inhaler.

Now I’m in the car,

screaming at the windshield until my throat is raw.

My knuckles are white against the plastic rim.

The radio is playing something I hate,

but I don't turn it off.

I just sit here in the parking lot

and wait for my heart to stop thumping.