It was at the auto shop
and an older mechanic named Victor
sat next to me in front of the office.
He wiped the grease from his hands
and lit a cigarette.
I knew he was worried because me and Darrin
had been doing a lot of cocaine.
“I remember back in the day
I’d been clean for a couple weeks,” said Victor,
and I got a job moving furniture.“
Me and Darrin had gone up to Reno
and we had a lot of coke
so we snorted some
and smoked a joint with some in it
what we called cocoa puffs
but I did too much
and had a minor heart attack.
“I was jonesing bad,” said Victor,
“so I pulled to the side of the freeway
and started selling the furniture
right out the back.”
The thing is, I didn’t really like coke.
Speed was OK, but what I really liked
and I figured this out later
was beer and whiskey.
“Tell you the truth,” said Victor,
“I don’t remember what happened after that…but
it couldn’t have been good.”
“Yeah, I gotta watch out for that shit,” I told him,
and then went across the street to the 7-11
for a .99 cent hotdog.