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this road. Still, just my luck, tonight
will be the night one is visiting
his girlfriend out here or something.
I don’t mind getting a ticket, if that’s
the most that will happen. But any
cop trained as a DRE would definitely
know what’s up. In fact, it probably
wouldn’t take a drug recognition
expert to expertly recognize how fucked
up I am right now. I’ll be a lot less
likely to go to jail in the morning. Oops.
It is morning, somewhere close to five.
It isn’t too far, maybe a little over
a mile, but it’s dumping snow, and I
didn’t bring my coat. [Stupid.] My
feet slip and slide, and before very
long, my sweater and hair are frosted
white. The cold makes me shiver,
the meth makes me shake, and by the time
I jam my key into the lock,
my fingers barely work enough to turn it.
I tiptoe up to my room and into
a hot shower. By the time I dry
off, enveloped by warm scented
steam, a gray dawn illuminates
my window. Outside, the snow
keeps unfolding a canvas of white.
I Sit by the French Doors
Dazed and sore, sorer by the minute,
watching the relentless storm. It hasn’t
