Humor, Love Poems, Poetry

Controlled Substances (NaPoMo Day 4)

My pharmacist’s assistant boyfriend
gained weight.
It brings us closer as our fingers
touch over the Hydrocodone
and our wrinkles show
and our noses shine
under the fluorescent lights.

I say in a low voice
You know they’re for my mother.

He leans forward and says
so gently
I know. I remember you.

I tell him they’re for my mother every time
to prompt his sweet nothing.
I am unashamed. I flounce
out of the pharmacy with my narcotics
and swing my hips with purpose.

-M.

(I’m starting a little late for National Poetry Month’s 30 in 30. I owe you three. I’m on it.)

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