A.P.B. (This is fiction)

by The Flaming Red Head

Posted to Poetry on 2002-12-17 07:50:00

To A.P.B.

Motherfucker with your faded blue eyes
Like the stars on a rebel flag handkerchief
You kept folded up in your back pocket.


Blue eyed Cajun’s son
You thought you were like Lafitte
When you were dealing drugs.

Your smugglers blues
Are nothing but leftovers in a silver spoon
You stole from a collander on your mother’s kitchen sink.

Junkie fever.
Have you got cotton candy in your blood?

I’ve watched you twitch and flinch
With your veins rolling like wheels on a hearse
To your own Goddamned funeral procession.

And I would be glad to be there
And cover your grave in shit
Just to watch the poppies sprout up when springtime comes.

But old junkies never die
They just get used up.

Their heads hard and dull
As the needles they try to poke in the backs of their hands.

Mel Zetzer (1991)