swallowed in rivers of traffic,

i bounced from fender to fender

I notice in the distance an image

of grotesque fascination

the last time my brother was possessive

of his own identity

when his control was free of inhibition

and chemical dependence

his face was not consumed by a junky smile

jagged teeth and haggard features

glare at me in a sick realization

all but dead eyes stare at me with

a nervous tic spasmodically

twitches his gaze

the open sores on the exposed lower halves

of his legs, wounds of indifference and addiction

I see these sores and remember when his wounds

were from a source as innocent

as inattentiveness on a bicycle the pavement rises

to meet the this skin of his knees and elbows

I remember when his incessant scratching was from

a bad tangle with a batch of poison ivy

not the obsessive itches of a junkie’s skin crawl

I see this horrible image so real and tangible

a memory not a hallucination

a memory of 2 hours ago

refracted by the tears in my eyes

my eyes ignore this forceful scene

and focus again on the black pavement

needle straight

12/28/2003

Posted on 12/28/2003
Copyright © 2024 Travis G Finborg