Blue-Eyed Boy
We all know the story –
you know, the needle and the damage done.
It’s not worth writing about.
But you,
you are so much more
than an old rock song.
When I see the single drop
of your blood in the syringe,
right before you plunge
into something I will never understand;
when I see your eyes
half into the nod and I know
you won’t be coming out tonight;
that’s more
than some cautionary tale.
You, you were my first
blue-eyed boy.
You were always there,
with your ever-present shoulder and hand –
there for the cops and the car wrecks,
the casts, the surgeries,
my nineteen nervous breakdowns.
You were my rock, and now
I don’t know how to be
yours. I still trust you
with my life
but not with twenty dollars.
copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews
