Getting On

Posted: May 26, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

1998: Portrait
Emergency in the house of lout!
Someone has put a Lou Reed album on.
The boys begin to rub their arms, and eye each other furtively,
‘Oh come on man, let’s get on’ someone says
Phone call time, the man is there.
He’s got the goods as they say,
and he’s coming on over.
He rides over on a Ducati motorbike.
With little paper packages of powder mystery,
Twenty five bucks and you’re off your head.
Then mixing up in a spoon, chucking in a cigarette filter,
The point of the syringe is in the filter sucking up the opiate juice.
A plume of blood in the clear liquid of the syringe, then it is pushed on home.
The sweetest taste in the top of my skull,
So warm all over and nostalgic for days without pain or perplexity,
I am the dancing bear of love and happy coincidence,
Tickle my fur, come for a cuddle.
We all feel so warm and loved inside by a thousand fuzzy koalas,
But from the outside it doesn’t look so good,
As we nod off in the corner.

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