The lab tech tells me I have a nice set of veins
healthy and strong
perfect for needlework
hidden just enough
visible in all the right places

I turn to the cork board
when it goes in
like i've done my entire life
and i'm not scared of needles
or shots
or blood
or alcohol
but in the milliseconds between her
skillful hands switching the vials
I imagine the thin plastic tube
spilling me
all over the nice tile floor
with no time left
for antiseptic or
bleach


I hear the click
and I think instead
of Peter
smelling of *****
only in that thin jean jacket
and a turtle neck
holding out his hand
and walking me out of that lab
on to the iced over sidewalks
through the frigid bustle
of morning traffic
into the corner store
for my favorite sweets

because I held silent when the other kids cried  
because I was brave

Because my veins were fragile and small
and the universe
owed me one