drugs

o M., 

your voice the other night. soft. warm as this May night. tell me, why. soldiers speak so. soft. do they teach you that?

J. says you are my heroin. says I should get out. find some methadone. wean off my delicious drug. so I did. tonight. a party. poets. live band. sushi (your favourite). wine. beer. dancing. and four men. came to me. one almost made the cut. said he liked my laugh. told me he’s a good kisser. scrawled his hotmail acct. on the back leaf of my moleskine.

too close to where I stash your pictures. you marching. Bosnia. Golan Heights. Afghanistan. new tan uniform. sharp. needles. straight into my blood.

J. says opium fields reek of fetid rhubarb. cannibis grows ten feet tall in Afghanistan. I asked J. if you guys grab handfuls. smoke it. he says no. they make us take the pee test. random. besides, he says, nobody wants to patrol. with other guys all fucked up. 

o M., it’s May again. I left the party drove to the river. wide and green. walked the banks. still light that late. picked long stalks of grass. held them to my face. txted you. again.

 

S