Cartwright loved the holidays.
It felt like parole every year.
He used to always end up in the hospital.
One Christmas it was a 5152
Elevated from a 5150.
Once he got there it was obvious,
he shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere.
“You’re not drinking? Good for you.”
“It’s good for everyone, trust me.
I’m no longer marching on roads of bones
in warrior mode.”