POEMS


8 mgs

Jack’s grandmother died from terminal cancer on Thursday
Friday afternoon,
I found myself on the better end of full Dillauded script
I gave Jack a C note
And took the amber bottle with the white cap
I didn’t wait five minutes before I cracked her open
And swallowed one of the tablets with my saliva,
The little pill floated down my throat like a lubricated gum drop
Nothing like pure, synthetic smack after a full shift in a hot kitchen
There were 39 of the 40 8mg tabs left
The street value of that plastic bottle was over a grand
I only sold two
And all week long, I was a late clocking in for my shifts