The neighbor with dementia wants what she wants.
I go to five or six shops to find it,
even then a close approximation: Slim-
Fast milkshakes—wrong flavor,
but will do—I come to learn her family rations
like a week’s supply of oxycodone tablets.
When she asks, I have no idea she overdoes it,
overdoses in greedy abandon,
a delight without the rapture.
One junkie recognizes another. We do
what we can to help as long as it doesn’t rob us,
leave us short. I’ve been out of the scoring game
for years, didn’t expect to become
my neighbor’s SlimFast connection, diet-drink hustler.
The next day, her granddaughter
comes knocking, lets me in on the situation.
We share a laugh about it, but I can’t help
looking back at my addiction &
how far I was willing to go the one time
someone stood between me & my drug.
Ace Boggess is author of seven books of poetry, most recently Tell Us How to Live (Fernwood Press, 2025) and My Pandemic / Gratitude List (Mōtus Audāx Press, 2025). His writing has appeared in Indiana Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Hanging Loose, and other journals. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes, watches Criterion films, and tries to stay out of trouble. His first short-story collection, Always One Mistake, is forthcoming from Running Wild Press.
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