Jake told me that “back in the day it was cool to be HIGH”
He bragged to me about his glory days, then told me more about the night when
He and Tony smoked “spliff fulls of stuff till morning”
And “took Cocaine, like there’s no tomorrow”
Oh, and “Crack? ”.......“Well, Crack was the crack”.....He half smiled......
I watched as he rolled his tenth rollup through darken fingers and grimy nails....
I remember saying that I had “never seen a former crack head in good form”,
But he grinned at me through semi rotten teeth.....tilting his third glass..
Accusing me of ”sipping red wine”, sarcastically complimenting me on my “fine selection”
Whilst dismissing my choice of Merlot and Pinot Noir, as an “idiosyncrasy”.....
He started to brag again about the “crazy weekends” all those years ago,
When he and Tony, and Mick from the pub just drank and drank and got HIGH!
With sullen expression he slowly recalled the “glory days”,
But for me his glory story was a gory story.......................
His grey eyes glared awhile and with an almost smile he continued,
I sat silently, listening whilst he fumbled for his “pack a fags”, fidgeting nervously
But I know that Tony and Mick are a long time dead.....
And all I see is my.........Addicted Friend...
Fast forwarded thirty winters, changed by a life of “HIGHS”
Now changed to a life of “LOWS”......Willingly,
Recalling his “glory” tales, but to me they are merely gory tales....
That youth from yesterday, is long gone
Now, all I hear are the ramblings of an older but not wiser Addicted Friend.
And all I see is an....Addicted Friend
My Addicted Friend.
© Cecelia Grant-Peters
26th July 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Addiction is very common in life; but, let us find a way to help those are very deep in it. Nice work.