“I need coffee like a junkie needs dope!”
She laughs and injects liquid gold
straight to her vein where it colors
from blue-green to murky brown.
“It wakes me up and makes me feel good.
Look,” she says, “look at my smile.”
And takes a knife to the corners,
widening her grin in jagged edges.
“This doesn’t happen on its own.”
She says, “This can’t just happen you know,
something has to make a smile.
It can’t just happen.”
Sweat is beading on her upper lip,
her forehead slick and moist,
hands are clammy, trembling.
She says, “LOOK at me.”
She says, “Look at ME!”