Gives a reader the insight to the life of a drug addict.
|Starting College, I joined a team
a rookie player in a dangerous league.
The ball it contained, an eighth of an ounce.
Snow White Clean.
But mom, dad weren’t there to cheer
me on, only financial sponsors.
Stalking my mailbox, I waited for
mom’s green “I miss you” cards. If only
dad knew he bought more than my books.
Blinded by skill, these fans saw A’s,
Guess Jeans, Happy me. Merely an offensive
Game, there was no defense.
I went to the line every morning, night,
When energy lacked, I called the most
effective play. Seven digits dialed,
I asked for my captain. Never selfish,
he passed the rock. Ben Franklin’s for
powder, a risky trade. Salivating like
a wild beast, these fangs tore through
tied plastic. My appetite bitter sweet,
my fork and knife- a hollowed pen cap,
my plastic student ID.
This play complete, I made the winning
shot; sharp off the mirrored glass. Strong,
smooth, up and in the hole. My conscience
Denial was my only loss. Practice makes perfect,
my personal foul. Always bringing me back to
the line, I didn’t want out of this game. An
invincible being, I was in control- drunken
laughs till 6 am, Dean’s list two years strong,
my smile never gone. Like taking candy from a
stranger, this kid couldn’t get enough.
Other highlights are best left blacked
out. Like waking up blurred in a stiff
hospital bed, no memory of the night before.
Stained red gauze clot the ends of my nostrils;
fresh scabs dress my tired face.
Translucent flesh cover blue spider veins;
IV’s wired to every angle of my body.
I ask the nurse where my friends are.
She raises her brow, says in a soft, humble voice:
“They left you propped against the sidewalk pay phone.”