Her past was a shop of horrors
Incest, rape, fear of mirrors
Her arms like pizzas, sliced and pitted
Just out of rehab she read and knitted
He was also a ghoulish pantomime
He'd had a habit and he'd done time
Went stone cold turkey while inside
If he told you he was clean, he lied
They met at the pub beside the jukebox
Both rebounding hard from detox
In the beer garden he lit her cigarette
His hands shaking from the intense effort
She exhaled and said his tattoos looked
shit
He'd done them himself, he had to admit
He bought her a pint, they sang to
"Sweet Jane"
Velvet Underground version, again and
again
She knitted him a beanie to keep his head
warm
He bought her a bracelet with a stereo he
pawned
They spent afternoons drinking and people
watching
He put his hand on her knee but she said
no touching
He suggested they shack up and get a cheap
flat
She pointed out they were broke so no hope
of that
Besides, she said, you'd be very bad for
me
He opened his palms and begged to disagree
She said addicts cohabiting never
works, never will
Doesn't matter whether its the bottle,
needle or pill
She tried to make him understand addiction
How it is an evil, insidious affliction
That they would rationalise their use
While lying about the level of abuse
How they would find ways to steal to feed
Each of their craven and desperate needs
Like two enemies working together
To defeat and destroy each other
He drained his pint and pointed to hers
She nodded sadly and opened her purse
At the bar he ordered two pints and two
shots
Musing on what life let him have and have
not
© shaun patrick green 2015
