Peaking on acid in men's room of Esso station, Rte. 66
dude I barely know shooting up
coke and LSD combs
asks me to tighten the tourniquet
I freak when he splatters blood
from hypodermic
on the bathroom wall
all becomes one dark stain
the universe
a blood-black hole
Minutes later, or hours, I come to--
he's returned, guilt-ridden
for running away
leaving me perhaps for dead
A Good Samaritan, after all
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