The Weight Of Change In My Left Pocket

Hope
Became a powder,
Blown and gently placed on foil,
Non-stick.

Respect
Was now gathered in a spoon,
Lit and sucked through a straw,
Red-striped, snipped in two.

Courage
Had been pawned for three crumpled 20 dollar bills,
A pair of 25 cent pieces,
And a grimy nickel.

Coin
Now in my left pocket,
The right being ripped,
Emerging from yet another hole in junked jeans
I had had on for a week.

Feet
Laced to their ankles,
Met concrete,
Pushing me forward to meet,
Yet another estranged addict of the streets.

Lapels
Were adjusted
On a faded black coat
With a lit cigarette lying casual over lazy lips.
He matched my stride and we shoved onward in silence.

Money
Was exchanged
On a faded gray afternoon
With a lit cigarette lying casual over lazy lips.
He doubled his stride and shoved onward in silence.

Friends became running partners,
Family amounted to no more than the prophet of their pockets,
Therapist replaced with dealer,
The meetings were shorter,
But the prescriptions made sooner.
***