I watched the train in chunky gasps crawling over leather flesh. Plywood stacked in decks of cards, our Tinker Toys of yuppie art. A homeless man was paper wadded, lying there beside the tracks. His body in a tent of gray like ashes flicked from cigarettes. The bottle stuck in gravel pits was charcoal on a barbecue.
Addiction is a, well, affliction, hornets on a breast of chicken.
Never chosen, always there. I was heading home to spoiled. Maple-syrup moments dripping. His was sweat like castor oil. Keyboards glittered in the grateful.