The Fix that Wasn’t
He made a cup of coffee, cream and mild,
So mild that Chuck would not have drunk it. He
Preferred it black and strong and bitter, wild
As Chuck’s addiction, which was white. The glee
It gave him was a feral thrill. It blocked
Out decency and every other good
Except theology. True thinking walked
Out with the powder in his nose. He could
Have stayed an elder in his church. He might
Have been a loving husband and a dad.
He loved his little boy, but not quite right.
The drugginess is what made daddy glad.
His friend, out past the sidelines, lonely, made
That cup. His loving drank in cocaine shade.
~ Phillip Whidden