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Edited on Fri Oct-31-03 11:45 PM by roughsatori
Blue
Caroline, her lover Kathy and I are excited:
the heroin we just bought is rumored to be excellent.
Kathy sits on the floor snorting hers, I inject Caroline with the stuff.
Pulling a belt tight around my arm, I notice Caroline’s head hanging.
“She’s turning blue, we’d better call an ambulance,” Kathy says.
I look: I’ve never seen lips that color.
I think: “Thank God the dope’s good;” stick the needle’s point into my vein, feel the warmth of the drug, drop the syringe.
Caroline falls off the chair.
“Giver her mouth to mouth,” I say.
“I don’t know how,” Kathy answers, snorts another line.
Thinking I’m lucky to be so high, I try to remember C.P.R. films, place my lips over Caroline’s breathe into her.
It isn’t working.
I pick her up, tell Kathy I need help.
She says, “You’re blowing my high.”
I fall against the kitchen table knocking it over.
The body hits the floor,
I jump on the body, pound its chest to start the heart.
“I’m going to use the guy-next-door’s phone to call the ambulance-
“Give her mouth to mouth,” I holler running out of my apartment.
I dial for help, give the address; walk back across the hallway with relief.
My apartment door is closed. I think “Face it she’s dead;” open the door-
see Kathy sucking Caroline’s left nipple, fingering her vagina.
The right nipple is the bluest nipple I’ve ever seen.
Stunned: I think, “This must be hell.”
I back out of the room, close the door quietly, knock and open it.
Kathy looks up smiling, “Relax honey, she’s gone.”
“Fuck you,” I shout; opening the window to let cold air in.
I kneel beside Caroline, thinking, “My best friend’s dead.”
I whisper in her ear, “The police are coming, you’d better hope you die.
‘They’ll call you’re parents, who’ll be pleased to hear their dyke daughter O.D.ed on heroin.
‘Caroline, your parents are here, WAKE UP.”
She springs from the floor, tries to run through the kitchen wall, falls down whimpering.
“You stupid bitch,” I scream, “Kathy, get her out of here!”
They leave. I cry, run to the street, wait.
The police arrive before the ambulance. I explain:
“It’s okay, she came to and left.” He shakes his head, drives off.
Knowing Caroline has more heroin in her pocket
I run through the Lower East Side to her apartment,
dodging Puerto-Rican kids in Halloween costumes.
I hear one in a clown suit say, “Did you see that white girl? She’s what I call stoned.”
His friend, a witch, laughs- “They’re all fucking crazy.”
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