The smell of ugly

me
the addict

in a strange city
on a day off from the new job

a corporate hi-flyer

if only they knew

out, looking for my fix
the itch becoming scratch
trawling the brown side of town
to score

can’t decide who to trust

feel my own ugliness
wafting 

as I drive through streets
of busted fences and
busted children
playing
games
in the shit
and dead ends

they stare
at me
and my feed-a-family-of-five-for-a-year
new car

finally, rancid with disgust
for me, and you, and them
I decide to leave
these poor people
alone

drink will work

well enough