My friend, who was a heroin addict,
is dead and buried beneath trash
and broken bottles in a prison field.
He died, of course, because of the way
he lived. It wasn’t a very good way,
but it kept him alive. When it couldn’t
keep him alive any longer, it killed him.
thoroughly and with great suffering.
After he had made certain choices,
there were no others available. That’s
the way it is with certain choices,
and we are faced with them so young.
I have few friends, and none of them
are replaceable. That’s the way it is
with friends. We make certain choices.
Labels: Richard Shelton