I know, mama says you can always choose nicer, softer words… but, I cannot candy coat raw emotions without denying how I feel. There was nothing nice or soft or gentle about my nephew’s body being discarded like an empty paper cup tossed out of a car in a McDonald’s parking lot.
The second poem is about a girl I knew a few years ago, a neighbor who tried so hard to get clean. She was like a different person, happy and free, until her old dealer showed up in red car. It’s a little hard to avoid people, places, and things when they bring the shit right to your door.
The two poems are interrelated as my nephew had been clean for years. Why would he use again? Did he have a choice?
My father has this theory that some deaths by heroin overdoses are murders that will never be investigated, book closed, wrote off as just another addict OD. It doesn’t matter how well they got their life together, how much time had passed… assumed moment of weakness, leaving loved ones shocked and confused, looking for answers, something that might make sense.
If you want to read the poems, here are a couple photos of an unfolded chapbook, rotated so you can zoom and read… link to PDF below.
Here’s what it looks like printed & folded:
Yeah, I’m out of colored ink, so the artwork came out black & white. Thanks for reading!