Baltimore

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.