“The first time I found my brother overdosed, he looked holy. A thing not to be touched. Yellow halo of last night's dinner. His skin, blanched blue fresco: Patron Saint of Smack. A Cop, flustered, tugged up his shorts, plunged a needle into his pale thigh. He hissed awake like a soda can. The paramedic spoke slowly in his ear like a lover, asked him what color yellow and red make. What is the difference between a lake and a river? In the corner I whittle my brother's used syringe into an instrument only I can play.”
Quote by Steven Espada Dawson
Author
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