It was on Washington Street
San Francisco
In the old brick building
Where I watched you shoot up
On your bed
You asked if I wanted any
"Just a little
make sure it's a clean needle"
And I felt warmer than I had
Before
We chain smoked then climbed from your window
Up the ladder to the roof
And watched the fog roll in
Through the Golden Gate
On an otherwise lovely day
I walked down the hill
To Van Ness Avenue
And caught the 49
To City College
I nearly nodded off in a field
Before geography class
What a sick little mess I was
At 23
It's been years since
I've seen her

David Bowie died
I watched my brother get taken away
by parole officers
Drug charges
He served 6 months
In August I put my dog down
He became unwell
I pet him as the vet
injected
It's hard to say goodbye
In September a dear friend
Was killed on his motorcycle
In Oregon
Smashed by a semi-truck
I was supposed to see him two days later
At a wedding
It's hard to say goodbye
In late October my mother
Had a nervous breakdown
She said she couldn't trust me
Before being taken away in an ambulance
She's not the same person now
Leonard Cohen died as well
And it's not even December

Sammy died on the 4th of July
in a fire
He tried to save his house mates
from the burning wreckage
but never emerged
We didn't always get along
In fact at times I thought
he hated me
Disappointed in my decisions
or lack of self control
I cried at his funeral and couldn't stand
to see him stuffed inside
a little box
Today is Sammy's birthday
and I celebrate the life
of a friend I love
By remembering
and continuing on
with his ghost at my side
There's nothing else
I can do

I am who I'm with
I am not as I appear
I am a chameleon
I change
too much
to stay
alive

In a ***** roadside bar
lonely drunks remember themselves
briefly
they've experienced loss
like us
and once a week are invited
onto a damp little stage
under a flickering light
to say something
as a reminder
of their existence
in the middle of nowhere
like a wandering ghost
in an old motel

There's a weird door
on a hill
near my house
Beyond the door is just
more hill
What are you for
weird door?

She hides the scar with long sleeves
Even on scorching summer days
So no one can see
or ask why
I sometimes tell stupid jokes
to try and make her smile
But there's an awful sadness
in her eyes
that I can't cure
Nicky's wrist is a road-map
to a dark place
with no return ticket
She reaches for a bottle of pills
to knock her out at night
The knife she used
under the bed