‘Them addicts choose it don’t they?’
I told him it was a great day
to wash his car.
‘We pay them benefits, they buy heroin!’
I asked what sort
of wax he used.
‘And then they take it in prison’
I said I could tell he used
a chamois leather.
‘Or we pay for their rehab’
I admired his car but
thought of Carla.
‘Don’t give them nothing’
Carla sat next to me
full of smack.
‘Let them die’
Carla on Bournemouth beach
cuddling her dead friend.
‘Why don’t they understand?’
Carla at home
waiting for Dad’s sweaty palms.
‘It makes me mad it does’
I told him, I told him
he’d missed a bit.
Michael Scott is a poet and writer from Swindon and a Koestler Trust arts mentor. He co-edits the poetry annual Domestic Cherry and is organiser of the Swindon Festival of Poetry. He also chairs BlueGate Poets in Swindon and is a member of the Malika’s Kitchen poetry collective.
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter. Read more here.
Like Well Versed on Facebook
Follow Well Versed on Twitter