deepundergroundpoetry.com
Cocaine Escapades
It's twelve AM, and I am awake again
to pay that one dollar, forty five cent fee at the ATM
because i can't sleep and my appetite left town before the powder from the day had touched the insides of my willing nostrils.
I'm not afraid to drive in the dark because this is MY nighttime.
The coolness of the air is personal and intimate as
seeing my chin in the mirror, from my downward gaze.
And for the time being, the night belongs to only me.
I feel nocturnal and entitled, because this is my time to be alive,
because I don't need to sleep tonight,
because the waxing gibbous looks best between 2 AM and 5:58 AM.
I can ignore the missing sliver,
get lost in the haze
and pretend this is a full moon,
specifically for me.
This time is mine because everyone else is asleep and still,
except for me and the charming man i'm heading to meet.
He tells me his master plan, how he lives near my university because users need convenience.
I think "that's not what they need" but appreciate his closeness.
I'll buy just enough to enjoy the full moon tomorrow.
(you don't need lunch money if you don't expect to want lunch.)
He rolls up my bill to offer a tester.
Snow falls from a green gram bag like an artificial blizard before opening day on Sipapu, the ski hill that I grew up on.
He parts the pile like a neighbor boy shoveling snow from a sidewalk for an old lady that can't help but indulge.
My bill is mine again
but only for the instant
that the snow is swirled upwards and freezes my brain.
Everything stops and stands in limbo, except the powder
that sprinkles down,
sprinkling my mind,
like a snow globe that's been turned upside down,
bleaching my thoughts for a second before i'm back.
Head rush over,
I see in colour--
I see in lightning.
Bet the waning moon day after tomorrow is going to be mesmerizing.
to pay that one dollar, forty five cent fee at the ATM
because i can't sleep and my appetite left town before the powder from the day had touched the insides of my willing nostrils.
I'm not afraid to drive in the dark because this is MY nighttime.
The coolness of the air is personal and intimate as
seeing my chin in the mirror, from my downward gaze.
And for the time being, the night belongs to only me.
I feel nocturnal and entitled, because this is my time to be alive,
because I don't need to sleep tonight,
because the waxing gibbous looks best between 2 AM and 5:58 AM.
I can ignore the missing sliver,
get lost in the haze
and pretend this is a full moon,
specifically for me.
This time is mine because everyone else is asleep and still,
except for me and the charming man i'm heading to meet.
He tells me his master plan, how he lives near my university because users need convenience.
I think "that's not what they need" but appreciate his closeness.
I'll buy just enough to enjoy the full moon tomorrow.
(you don't need lunch money if you don't expect to want lunch.)
He rolls up my bill to offer a tester.
Snow falls from a green gram bag like an artificial blizard before opening day on Sipapu, the ski hill that I grew up on.
He parts the pile like a neighbor boy shoveling snow from a sidewalk for an old lady that can't help but indulge.
My bill is mine again
but only for the instant
that the snow is swirled upwards and freezes my brain.
Everything stops and stands in limbo, except the powder
that sprinkles down,
sprinkling my mind,
like a snow globe that's been turned upside down,
bleaching my thoughts for a second before i'm back.
Head rush over,
I see in colour--
I see in lightning.
Bet the waning moon day after tomorrow is going to be mesmerizing.
Published 10th Feb 2012
| Edited 13th Feb 2012
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10th Feb 2012 2:25am
12th Feb 2012 11:38pm
That's one I can relate to assuredly. You still have the ability to make it seem innocent. Good luck with that. As an aside very glad to see someone else who sees reality TV for what it is - the drain hole of all substance leaking out from our minds.
My goal was realizing how it can be innocent but then becomes something else--constant ATM fees, up all night, not being able to say no, a dealer who makes it too easy.. The lunar references attempt to convey that I'll watch the moon wane and then I savor the full moon and then still find myself sniffing and watching the moon wane. Thanks for your comment, it made me realize where my weak points are and I plan to edit.:)
14th Feb 2012 00:17am
I didn't mean to imply that the innocence is necessarily bad. It means you are still human. You' re still in college and still just snorting. I did a similar, but 20 years later when I took it up for the third time and was smoking and shooting it, my writing took on a different feel. I had to invent the name Steve Bragg for this guy, because my writing was becoming too twisted for my own name. I seriously meant "good luck' in keeping this innocence. I added seedier and seedier explorations into debauchery just to have "real" experiences to fortify the depth of my art. It isn't always worth it. If I'm demented at times in my writings I want it to be a morality tale for the younger writers. Sometimes trading the quality of life for the quality of the art that it produces is a bad bad trade. Struggle for the depths but weigh the consequences carefully lest you do it in hindsight.
13th Feb 2012 3:29am
the charming man you're about to meet, user's need convenience, "that's not what they need". i loved that whole stanza.... I like the association of cocaine and driving around in the night time looking at the moon.
