COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: Razors pain you;
COUNSELOR: Did you cut yourself shaving? Is it a minor bleed or–
CALLER: Rivers are damp;
COUNSELOR: Right. A serious flow. Can you think clearly and follow directions?
CALLER: Acids stain you;
COUNSELOR: Are you on acid now, ma’am?
CALLER: And drugs cause cramp.
COUNSELOR: I wouldn’t worry about the cramps, just find something to stop the bleeding.
CALLER: Guns aren’t lawful;
COUNSELOR: No, I said to _stop_ the bleeding…
CALLER: Nooses give;
COUNSELOR: Also not great. Unless the bleeding is severe enough that you need a tourniquet.
CALLER: Gas smells awful;
COUNSELOR: I don’t know who farted, but that really should not be your concern right now.
CALLER: You might as well live.
COUNSELOR: I like your attitude. Say, is there any chance I might call you back and put you on the line with Sylvia Plath, the next time she calls?
COUNSELOR: Hello? Are you there?