He’s an old brother
That creeps up on me
From time to time
In worn out biker boots
And fucked up hair.
Heavy belts around his waist.
I want to put my arms around him
Yet
I want to stay the distance.
The addict speaks to me.
He is low in tone
And calm.
He seems quite rational.
“What’s up?”
He asks.
“Sameoh, sameoh.”
I reply without an ounce of sincerity.
Nothing is the sameoh
But I don’t feel like
Getting into it
With him
Because it makes me
Appear vulnerable.
That’s what he’s fishing for.
I can see the lure bobbing
Red and yellow
Right there
On the surface.
“Long time.”
He spoke.
I could smell the leather
The stale sweat.
The days on end
Metallic chemical breath.
All too familiar to me.
“I’m riding on a different rocker.”
I told him.
“Tha’s cool. I get it. You could at least buy me a beer for old times sake.”
He jested.
“I can’t.”
I said
“And I won’t.”
“Damn! I thought I was in friendly territory.”
He dissed
“No colors flying here. It’s all good. Nothing to worry about.”
He motioned for the bartender.
I lit a cigarette
And purposely didn’t offer.
He pulled his stool up closer.
I bit my lip
Because that’s what I do
When I’m feeling
Anxious or bored.
“I’m not offering and I’m not taking.”
I told him.
“It’s good...really good...”
He slithered.
That got me.
The way he said it.
Like a snake
Those two words
Whispered out of his
Seven rows of teeth.
I was struggling.
“I don’t have cash on me and I’m not paying a motherfucking ATM fee.”
I laid it down
That he wasn’t getting
Anything from me.
But I blew any credibility I had a long time ago.
“No hard feelings, but I need to keep my distance.”
I said getting up from my seat
Feeling the tornado
Slowly
Sucking me in.
I needed to get out of there.
“No hard feelings.”
He returned.
“I take credit cards.”
He laughed.
We parted ways
Both of us knowing
That we would
Meet up again
Sooner than later.
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