She and I were friends for eight years. We spoke on the phone every day or faxed notes. We got each other through the rough times and cheered each other on through the good. She helped me get through my mother's death. I helped her survive a number of disappointing romances. It all ended when her addiction resurfaced.
pumping
sara seeks out
a friend with cancer,
pockets pills when
june is sleeping.
she gulps three down, back
at her place, then binds
her legs tight 'round a stranger.
she dances with the stars
at night, makes bargains
with her demons.
the demons tell her she's
fine; keep pumping pills,
you're bound for glory.
now sarah says she's finally
clean, gone twelve steps, picked
up her chips, found jesus, but
uses people instead of drugs.
still sleeps with any man
who asks her.
her hands, as cold as old
hoar frost, betray her, heart
gone hard as Barb'ra Allen's.
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