Foreign Lands

Part 16:

She took out the small scarlet purse from her backpack. A purse with intricate black beadwork and an ornate crystal clasp. She unfolded the yellow silk scarf and smoothed it out on the table. She carefully laid out the spoon, the small piece of cotton, the needle and the tiny square plastic bag. She put some brown sugar on the spoon, added a few drops of water and flicked on the zippo lighter. She cooked it until it bubbled up. Tied the rubber tourniquet around her arm. Pulled it tight with her teeth. Pulled the elixir into the plunger. Patted the vein and put the needle in.

She breathed in deeply laying her head back.

The wind blew cold through the trees

red fox emerges from the reeds

green glow eyes spy the bull frog tongue

snap the mosquito is done

while the hum of the tiger cat purrs

and watches

as the red winged black bird takes sanctuary

in a gnarly hole

wood spider rolls in and out of the skull of the dead pigeon head

then retreats through the crack

of a dislocated board from the tired old shed

and black crickets sing like the color red

and move in unison. playing ‘La Boheme’

to the sky

blue eyes lie and brown eyes cry out for more

stars giggle on the top floor

outside of the window

as the moon floats by with a dirty grin on his face

the faucet leaks and drips one crystal pearl into the sink

where it joins the other millions of water droplets

and flows out from the rust and mildewed pipe

into the laughing creek tonight

bouncing rock to rock





a river that’s snaking


brilliant translucent colors reflecting



leaping up

In efferfuckingvescence….

to greet and meld with the ocean