Mary Jane

I remember you before now,
football, geography, Dextrose.
There was some hope there I suppose,
Broken in three places,
A spiral, a snap, a clean break.

Where are you? The common,
The rafters of the garage,
The milklight soaked hill behind His house,
the stolen spade at your side,
a brainless smile passing your lips?

An old Oasis bottle, grey duck tape,
so crude it makes me smile,
so crude it makes my heart burn,
Dry tears clutch in my throat like the wet smoke
of a home within a home.

Your ambitions passed through this,
all for nought as She would say.
Do they miss you? Do they use you?
Who cares you shrug, awake but asleep,
I have diabetes, I can't help it.


No, my friend, my patient, my comrade. You can't.