The walls in there were white, just like in the films,

but so are walls in most new, apartment buildings.

I shared a room with two people far less

crazy than me and one far crazier.

I couldn't write. I couldn't read.

An angel, as natural and lovely

as any starfish, came each evening at 6

o'clock and this alone I thought happily

of between her departure and the tranquilizers'

arrival; she more therapeutic than any chemical.

Mostly, nothing happened, unlike any film.

I watched a lot of music television,

and played ping-pong in the morning coffee rush.

It was decaf; they trusted us like children—

not at all. Mostly, I ate meals that

were better than I'd expected, asked about

shrinks who were largely absent, and managed to

escape (all right, I was released) prematurely.