Grab your supplies,
two needles, six alcohol pads and
the Wonder Woman bandaids you bought
to feel brave.
Remind yourself to buy a box for mom
next time you supermarket shop.
Curse under your breath,
its left thigh week and
you know the left thigh really hates T
Message your group chat,
Ask them to pump you up
so you can ignore needle induced palpitations—
are my ribs caging my heart or protecting it?
Refocus yourself; now is not the time
for existential thoughts
Fill the syringe with the eighteen gauge,
and then drop that sucker into
the ancient bottle of vanilla coke
filled with used needles.
Change to the twenty-five gauge,
refresh your music page.
Is it a Queen or All Time Low shot day?
Wipe your leg down,
not once, not thrice,
but five times—
As you stare between the needle,
your thigh, your needle, and again
Count to three,
and in it goes,
not so bad—it never is.
Repeat every Sunday.
A piece from my creative writing class