Thursday, April 4, 2013

Mama's Boy

I cook dinner, clean the kitchen, read for a while, watch TV, read some more in bed, but something in me will not settle down to sleep, until finally, well after midnight, I turn out the light. Katie, exhaustion in her voice, turns over and mumbles, "Could we please just go to bed earlier?"

In my dream, I live in my current apartment with my mother, and I am keeping my (dream) heroin addiction from her, hiding my works and cooking up in the kitchen. I look at the syringe full of brown, murky liquid, but suddenly a resolve steels me never to shoot up again, so that I bend, and finally break, the needle, knowing I will not easily find another.

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