Poem: December 7, 2022

An Open Letter to My Students

To Whom It May Concern:

The pharmacy informs me that due

to the national shortage of Adderall-

which hasn’t been available locally

since much earlier this fall-

doctors have been prescribing

concerta to their patients instead,

thus creating an unanticipated,

public run on my daily meds, 

and so, they tell me, they can’t predict

when they will be able to fill

my request for my monthly bottle

of little white barrel-shaped pills.

So now I find myself explaining

the consequences of seven days,

unmedicated and still at work. 

So to start, I am walking through a haze, 

left without access to the clearer,

straighter path, while also finding that

I am surrounded by every noise which,

a week ago, wouldn’t have mattered,

so I am overstimulated by, yes, 

literally every single thing that’s here, 

and my anxiety spikes, and my

heart races so quickly that I fear

I will snap at one of you even though

you’re doing nothing different or wrong,

but my exhaustion has peaked,

and my reserves are all gone,

which brings me to this letter’s point:

to make of you a simple request-

Please chill out and do your work-

I truly believe that would be best.

Sincerely, 

Mr. W