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“God, Mother. You sound like
an investment banker instead of
a total loser tweaker. Resources?
What you don’t have is enough love.”
IT WAS NASTY
Mean.
In your face.
Designed for
overt reaction.
And it got zero.
She pulled away
from the curb, exhaling
nicotine poison, regardless
of my little brothers, chilling
in the backseat. Drove me home,
dropped me off without a single word.
I don?
?t know
if she was stunned
into silence, or if her
meth-mangled brain couldn’t
grasp what I said. Either way, we
haven’t spoken
in months. I’m pretty
sure she was straight that
day. Pretty sure she’s been
straight every time I’ve seen her.
Always, she’s chain-
smoking anxious. Often,
she’s angry. I’ve never seen
