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Junkie James

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I met Junkie James one day at the park;
He had brown eyes
and a freckle right above his lip.
His hands swung by the
pockets of his basketball shorts,
his hair wasn’t brushed,
and when he smiled,
Junkie James had a small
dimple, not very noticeable,
but I noticed it.
His teeth were yellow,
but his voice was gentle.
News of Junkie James
was all over this small town;
He's only good for one thing,
and that one thing is how
he got his name,
Junkie James lived in a small trailer,
one that smelled like cat pee.
But Junkie James wasn't ashamed.
“Why lie about where you come
from, if you know one day,
you're gonna be better than that?”
He told me once.
Junkie James slept in a tiny room,
with a tiny bed,
but on his bedroom walls,
were words and pictures,
all written in sharpie.
I asked, “How come you write on there?
What does all this mean?”
He grinned, showing that dimple,
that was usually unseen.
“They are all memories,” He answered,
“For when I’m no longer around.”
I nodded, and while sitting
on his tiny, tiny bed, I hoped
Junkie James would stay
and would never leave me.
It was a warm day at the park,
we sat, and killed time.
“Why do you always look sad?”
Junkie James asked.
I shrugged and he stood,
and proudly announced,
“I’m always happy,
don't you know, there’s
no reason to be sad?”
I looked up at Junkie James
and in a long time, I smiled.
I saw past his stained teeth,
his scruffy hair,
and that lingering smell
that followed him.
I saw past the junkie.
He held my hand that
afternoon, and I really
didn't want that day to end,
but nothing last forever..
Maybe one day,
I'll see him and
there will still be
that spark;
I met Junkie James one day at the park;




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