The Pusher

She hurriedly tugged on her shoes

And walked into the rain

Ineffectively covering her head with arms

The dark night making it seem less vain.

The car around the corner

Now had the blinkers on

She briskly made her way to it,

Getting in, but post a hesitant stall.

Her shivering wrinkled hands –

They were moist and swollen

Her eyes struggling with them

And bringing from her coat,

A packet into the open.

She handed this to the men

They had had a history of trade

They were the loyal buyers

Who first turned the pusher into a rich maid.

And yet she had no idea when the object made a haven in her son’s blood,

She was busy finding users when the infection made him fall with a huge thud.

It was a necessity now

To sell, to earn, to pay for the meds

The smoothness of the rise

And to the fall – that’s where it led.

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