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six of one, half-a-dozen the other

i bumped into an old school
friend the other day
he was sitting on a bench
over by the bus stop.
it looked as if he had
inhabited the spot for a while.
our chit-chat was minimal,
we both seemed anxious.

-want some-
   he asked,
offering a dirty needle
and a vial of hospital
morphine
the solution in the flask
was tinted a little red
from the needle being
stuck in it
time and again.

-no thanks-
   i said
and i walked
to the nearest
bar
and poured whiskey
in my head
til the stool
could support me
no more.

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