Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

A new rather bleak poem

Anything to get out of doing my work...

Chicago Legend 1978

She was nineteen and pretty, wanted tits
wanted them now and not to have to wait
for them to grow. Hormones take time and it's
so hard when you're with some guy on a date

and he finds padding. So she asked a friend
whose friend had talked to some guy that she knew
who'd shoot you up. She got someone to lend
most of his fee; when she got there, she blew

him for the rest. He stuck the needle in
and he screwed up. Some went into her heart,
some to her lungs. It really must have been
like drowning on dry land. You'd only start

to know you're dying when you fade to black.
He fed her to the dogs down at the track.
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