LAST GOOD RUN

(photo, Who Needs A Virtual World, by Todd Huffman for Needle Exchange; from Wikimedia Commons)


For some folks, the biggest and best gamble
Is a hot vein full of snow.

Pull the tube tight. Smack the spot.
Ah, there’s that glimpse of red. Then
The blue bubble penetrated by a needle
Pops and lets out
This exhilaration sweeping you
Beyond all inhibition, this last
Reckless test of manhood.
Purple marks maybe remain, but soon
They’ll fade.

The storm
Slams into your brain
And cracks it open like an egg,
Your skin lights up; sparks
Crowd the corners of your eyes.
Impossible fullness overflows
All inner dams. Shafts of piercing cold
Poke up amid the heat blast
Rising through your throat,
Then slice between the thin walls
Of your pulsing skull.
You drop to your knees,
Embrace your optimism -–
Since, if anything goes wrong
While you’re in this state,
It’s too late for playing savior.

Then comes the sudden surreal
S l o w d o w n ; wait,
Where are you rushing off to?
Your heart hits the wall.

I wonder whether I’ve got
One more good run
Left in me, Shawn told his brother.
Those would be the last words
Anyone could quote.


-- © 2010 by Jack Veasey

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