Summer 1992 • Vol. XIV No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1992 |

Robe

It was the thought of a flu shot brought it on. And now I ransack the drugstore counter with other hunched shoulder blades—for remedies: Robitussin for cough—(expectorant); for cough and cold (expectorant and decongestant); for cough and cold and body aches (expectorant and decongestant and acetaminophen); all NON-NARCOTIC— I remember my first hour in that summer school for juvenile delinquents in the Berkshires. I had no sooner walked once down the dormitory hallway when an inmate burst from his room clutching a crumpled brown paper bag and collared me: "You going to town? Can you get me a bottle—of—'Robe'?" He stood in the luminous squalor with his back to the light that poured through his window. In those days you could buy "Robe" with codeine over the counter but you had to sign for it and he'd used up his month's allotment. When I returned dutifully with his bottle I could hear, through the closed door, the sounds of stertorous breathing as if he were bein

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Joan and Jean

By Mark Rudman

It was the thought of a flu shot brought it on. And now I ransack the drugstore counter with other hunched shoulder blades—for remedies: Robitussin for cough—(expectorant); for cough and […]

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