Poetry junkies

[Snafu in the Void]

I could not find a reference for the transcript on this poem, so I invented the formatting... hope it's not too bad.

She shoots up in the neck,
she told me.
I told her to stick it in my ass
and she tried and said
"Uh oh"

And I said, "What the hells the matter?"
She said, "Nothing, this is New York style"
and she jammed it in again
and said "Oh shit!"

I took it and put it into my arm -
I got part of it.
I don't know why people
fuck with this stuff.
There's not that much to it.
I think they're all losers
and they want to lose... real bad.

There's no other way.
It's like they can't get
where they're going
or when to go
and there's no other way.
This has got to be it.
She shoots up in the neck.

"I know", I said
I phoned her but
she could hardly talk,
said it was the laryngitis.

"Have some of this wine."
It was white wine
at 4:30am
and her daughter was sleeping
in the bedroom.

She had cable TV
with no sound
and a large screen-young
John Wayne watched us
and we neither kissed
nor made love.

And I left at 6:15am
after the beer and wine
were gone
so her daughter wouldn't
waken for school
and find me sitting in bed
with her mother

With John Wayne,
and the night gone,
and not much of chance
for anybody.