new poem

Jason


As my friends will tell you,
I have trouble remembering much
of anything. For instance,

was it last evening?
Or an evening not last evening?
Perhaps even a druggy morning
when I bumped into

Jason? Yes, it was Jason,
the same Jason who used to sling
heroin
in the house i'm now
living in.

"Central Florida", he said

"Tomorrow, I'm leaving",

and right then and there,
directly in front of him,
I understood so clearly how
our lives are based solely on

timing

that is,
until the memory of Jason

escaped me
completely

and I was left
with only a
fourty of Mickey's

and my
own

frazzled
skeleton.