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Poem

Baltimore, 
again. 
8 AM, sweating, shaking 
on the verge of puking up 
stomach acid. 
the car is dead silent. 
are we early? 
are they late? 
is this how its going to be  
forever? 
who knows. 
who cares. 
i’ve been watching time 
pass and slip through 
the cracks between my fingers. 
it seems more apparent 
than usual. 
we are parked at a gas pump. 
each time i make eye contact 
its quickly broken. 
i know what they are thinking. 
‘what a shame.’ 
‘my morning could be worse.’ 
maybe they even feel  
gratitude. 
as they finish filling up, 
i watch them reach for  
their phones. 
i wonder if they are calling 
their daughters and sons. 
on the surface, 
just to check in. 
but inwardly,  
thankful their children 
aren’t heroin addicts. 
no one wants their baby to grow up 
to be 
a junkie. 
i steal a glance at my other half 
she’s ill 
but she’s beautiful. 
she’ll feel better soon enough. 
a young handsome black man 
starts over 
and my heart 
skips a beat. 
we exchange currency  
for oblivion. 
we drive away to find 
somewhere to hit. 
it feels like  
my first kiss. 
i can’t remember what makes me happy anymore. 
my happiness is  
artificial 
and fits nicely 
in a syringe. 
when i get on, 
i can breathe again.  
i melt into the passenger seat, 
successful. 
i watch her try to find a vein, 
in and out of consciousness. 
she’s millimeters away from getting well. 
she’ll get there. 
i let myself nod but 
for a moment,  
i wonder 
what that young, handsome black man 
wanted to be  
when he grew up. 
i guess it doesn’t matter. 
everyone crosses paths at the bottom.

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