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Mr. Chemistry

Drug dealer. Such a profound term. One whoapartment?" I asked, "Sure, like I don't get
deals in drugs. Not only the selling, butenough attention by the cops. Now I'll have
often the trading, using, and producing.a corpse on my floor.""I have $600," she
It's not just some homeless guy on the sidesaid."It might be possible," I said, as I
of the road trying to sell crack for somescratched my chin.We walked back to my room.
drug lord, just so he can have a place to"Put the money on the table," I said, "I have
sleep. Nowadays, it's some 17 year old punk,to make a phone call." She did as I
carrying a book of acid and a pound of weed,asked."Hey, Johnny," I said on the phone,
all wrapped up in tin foil and plastic, and"What's up, man? Hey, you think you can help
at home, his bathtub is full of sugar, water,me move a body? Yeah, I know the normal fee.
50 mashed organges, and 10 packets of yeast.Sure, sure, come later tonight. Peace,
Ask him about it and he'll say, "Technically,brother.""Can I ask why you're doing this?" I
it's still alive when I drink it, but I justsaid, as I picked up the money."Several parts
pour more water in there when it starts toof my life are a mess," she said, "Bad
run low, and it's like a Jesus: turning waterparents, bad boyfriend," she grinned at me
to wine, just on a slower and less tastefulwith some wit."Hey," I said, "Don't get cute
method." He'll have a repetoir of legal andon me. After all, I do have to kill you."
illegal highs, ways to dodge prosecution orShe nodded with a smile and I started
arrest when police inquire. "What? Youcounting the cash. "So, really, why are you
found a meth pipe? Oh, my god... Are youdoing this?""The reasons are my own and my
serious? That's what he was doing. Oh, man.own to --""Hey, there's only $450 here," I
My friend was with my bag. That fuckheadsaidd, looking up, "Where's the other
must have put it there." Five hours$150?""That's all I have," she said, "It's
detainment while your body is dehydratingeverything."I had to make a decision. Help
from the speed, and then you're a free man.her die or let her go with her cash. As a
Everyday was walking on a tightrope of thedrug dealer, it decently pisses me off that
law. In a pill or a bag, I am holding asomeone says they have cash for something but
piece of heaven that lasts 8 hours. One day,end up not having it, or having half.
I make $170, the second day, I hop two fencesSometimes they offer the argument that
after making a $20. We're living on thethey'll get me back, but that's bullshit.
fringes of poverty in the ghetto, strugglingThey're addicted to a substance they can get
to make a living. I guess I provide a ratherfrom anyone. The next five dollars to hit
important industry. I help people forgettheir palm will go to another dealer, not to
they are here.It is not uncommon. One day, Ipay debts. Unlike these people, this girl
am facing someone who gives me their lastcouldn't do that. She was not going to be
$25. Maybe they intended for it, but theiraround next week."Well, fine," I said, "I
next four hours were their last. And as muchsuppose we can still do this... Sit on the
as I felt that I was a slave to this system,bed." I sat down at my desk and pulled a
I felt free, too. Free of starvation, freecoffee filter out of the trash can, and
of bruttish conditions. Yes, I have beenopened it on my desk. It was ful lof a wet,
shot at by cops and other dealers. One time,green powder."What's that?" she asked, trying
four kids tried to jump me for my shit. Ito look over my shoulder."It's a toxin
had to stab one to get them to realize that Ibyproduct that comes from making high grade
wasn't a push over. As dangerous as it was,methamphetamine," I said, as I started to
I had a life. I had a living. I couldfill the gelcaps with it, "It's not painful,
survive in this horrible place, wracked withunlike most toxins, but it is by far more
misery as much as it was. And, honestly, Ilethal." I started to fill some with basil,
called it a home. There is somethingwhich helps stomach digestion."Are these band
prophetically human about this profession. Alyrics?" she asked, referring to the paper on
friend of mine was on a bad acid trip. Hethe wall.I turned around, "Those? No...
kept shaking. I let him stay in my room. HeThey're nineteenth century poems." I went
kept talking about police, not making muchback to filling pills."They're beautiful,"
sense. I gave him a blanket and put onshe said, "I enjoyed this one about love at
soothing music. Next morning, I found outfirst sight.""Yeah, it mocked the concept of
thath someone tried to burn down a departmentit and then talked about loving someone after
store, what cops called, "seemingly from aknowing them," I replied."Yeah," she said, "I
drug user." I remember holding his shakingget it. I was curious as to what kind of
hand, kneeling down to him. "It's gonna beband would sing a song like that.""That's the
okay," I said, "Don't worry about it, you'rething," I said, "None would. Or at least,
safe here." He sort of calmed down and I letalmost none.""And what's this?" she
him stay. I suppose I also harbored aasked."That?" I said turning around, "It's a
criminal, but that never bothered me. I havepainting of a face, using only red and black
my own definition of legal and illegal.Thepaint. I paid two hits of acid for it. I
kids or old wash up junkies I sell to, theywould have paid more, because it's just so
are hardly stereotypical. I have seenbeautiful.""Mmmmm," she replied, "It is
couples come to me, and say that they wantnice." With her affection toward the
ecstacy, something to increase their love forpainting, she had thrown a smile in my
each other and experience it through newdirection. I could see that she was rational
channels. They were young and poor, but theyand logical in her decision of suicide. She
still had more than many others. I've hadwasn't in tears. She wasn't broken in
junkies come up to me for a fix of meth sopieces. She was very much together, or very
they could be up for a fourth day. Burnteffective in subtly convincing me of this.I
out, shaking, destroyed body, otherwisewalked over to the bed and handed her four
dysfunctional brain, and worst of all, comingpills. "I'll get you a glass of water, I
down and in tears, "Please, please, just givesaid, "Mostly, I tell my customers not to
me some tweak..." Begging with their lasttake it all at ancoe, but that is pricesly
dolars. I sold to him of course. He hadwhat I am telling you now." She swallowed
cash. And, as much as I would love to bethe pills, two at a time, with the aid of
able to give it away for free, I need towater."What's your name?" I asked
survive myself. Twelve year old streether."Julia," she said, "But most people call
urchins come up to me and ask to buy LSD,me Julee.""Well," I said, "My name is Caley."
handicapped men on Social Security ask me forI had to tell her, because I felt like she
Codeine. Artists and Musicians flock to buywouldn't ask."It'll only be 30 to 60 minutes,
absinthe, and they finish off a bottle andbefore you're gone," I told her."Why did you
stay up to 6 AM talking on a city bench,get into this business?" she asked."Well," I
flesh turned to fucking ice, drinking a cupsaid, "It's easier cash, it requires little
of coffee that has been empty for the pastwork, I am always well stocked in my favorite
forty five minutes.I suppose by now, it iscommodities, and I'm not on the brink of
obvious to tell that I have a particularlypoverty. Why?""I guess I always just wanted
keen observation of my environment. Unliketo know," she replied."So, how was your day?"
other deals, I don't spend my profit on a newI asked, a bit uncomfortable with the overall
pimping car or a mansion -- and the onlysituation."It's getting better," she replied,
dealers who could get that are coke lords and"And your own?""Oh, it's doing all right, "I
heroin merchants. The rest are on thesaid, "Making money..."A slow silence befell
fringes of poverty. One of my hobbies, I canthe room for thirty seconds as we exchanged
confess that I love the beauty of the humanglances occasionally, myself somewhat
face. It may seem like a fickle or otherwiseuncomfortable still, she somewhat uneasy, I
shallow enjoyment. I look to the face of aimagine. A car outside blowing Mexican rap
girl walking down the street, see a smile,music goes by with a bad engine. Cluttered
and as I feel my entrepenurial spiritfeet trample by with a mix of foreign
crushed, I find something beautiful andlanguages. Her eyes look down and then are
unique. Some homeless child struggles forbrought up to mine. As little as I know
warmth on a city bench, his face with aabout her, I feel sure enough that she spoke
stone-cold expression, as he pulls a hoodwith more subtle ocnfidence that second than
over his face, with little eyes peering ataty any other moment of her life. "I've led
me. In some other life, my current onea good life.""Then why end it this way?" I
completely forgotten, I imagine I would be anasked, as the curosity of the homo sapien
artist. I am not one now, but I remembernature urked my spirit.She shrugged."That
during my last year of school my art classdoesn't seem like you're confident in your
(apparently 8th grade). One student wasreasons," I said."No, it's not that," she
exceptional, and the teacher allowed him toreplied, almost in a faded tone, as though
do as he pleased. He used flint, charcoal, athe poisons had sapped away her soul before
variety of inks and paints. On those solemnit took her body, "It's just that I don't
nights as I try to fall victim to sleep'swant to, or need to, talk abou tit... I
claws, I fantasize using the complex tools ofassure you it exists, but I'm not bringing it
art to capture the smile or anger of ainto this room.""Understood," I said... "How
person. But, just a dream, nothing I've toldwas your life?""I told you, good," she said,
to anyone.Asside from this one hobby of mine,"I have this friend, Celine. She was always
I can admit that I enjoy poetry. Theso nice to me and admired the things I did.
resurrection as faded love through columns ofShe could be a friend on mutual terms, too.
words, I can feel more free than I have everShe loved me so much.""I'm sure she still
before. Perhaps itis the human instinct todoes then," I replied, "Why use the past
seek out what we do not have. In poetry,tense?" She didn't answer."I'm leaving
nothing is written of the tringiness of thebehind a son," she replied finally."Oh?" I
ghetto, the life and death horrors that everysaid, surprised, as my eyes widened."He'll
man in poverty must face. Yes, poems aboutnever know, though," she said."What do you
it are written, but not those prior to 1800.mean?" I asked.She caressed her hand over her
For the same reason I find necessity instomach."You mean... you're pregnant?" I
trying to escape the hardened life of a drugasked."Yeah," she said, "But only three
dealer, I can see a yuppy reading "Treasureweeks.""Is that the reason?" I asked."No, she
Island" or some other adventure-based novel.said, "I told you, I wouldn't let the reason
For myself, it is Thoreau, Tennyson, Shelley,enter this room.""Okay," I said. I tried to
Rousseau, Emerson -- anyone who put on paperreach for something to say, some way to
some thoughts that were original, creative,comfort her. "Would you like to hear a
honest. Unlike my hope fo being an artist,poem?" I asked."Sure," she said. I brought
this hobby of poetry was shared and expressedout perhaps my most moving and emotion poem I
with contemporaries. They seemed to regardhave from the 1800's. It subtly touched upon
it not with animosity, particularlythe points of happiness and sadness. It
curiosity, uncomfortability, or any othersubtly touched upon the points of happiness
xenophobic thought, but they just consideredand sadness. Every few months, my most
it as another part of who I was. I supposefavored passage will change. Maybe just its
that it was the tolerance all of us must haveanother poem, another stanza, or another
for each other, under such horrible livingauthor altogether. Here I read to her the
and working conditions. So, what a man doespick of the season."That was very nice," she
in his own home, is his own to consider.Insaid, throwing at me a smile with closed,
this line of life, I get a variety of awkwardrelaxed eyes, as one hand of hers rubber her
requests. For certain chemicals, peopleforearm ently, turning her face away. Maybe
request that it's not in getabs, but just init was a crime, an indictment against me, my
powder. Some people want it dissolved incharacter. In only two examples have I ever
alcohol. PCP on Marijuana, freebased cocaineshared the poems of my heart with others. I
(crack), freebased AMT, DMT,or DiPT. Ornone case, my friend was going in to the
perhaps an intensified powder that will givemilitary, and would serve 2 years over seas.
potent effects by just being in the same roomWe hugged, thinking we may never see each
as it. There would be one day where Iother again. In that case, I didn't even
receive a very awkward request."I want you toread him a poem. I slipped a piece of paper
make me die," she said.I've heard thisin to his pocket with a beautiful poem
before, but only from friends and colleagueswritten on it. And now, with Julia, I have
who were witty. "Give me 20 hits of meth,read her a poem. If I thought she would be
and take a month off my life." But, no, thisalive in two hours, I wouldn't have gone that
girl knew who I was, because she knew myfar."Can you hold me?" she asked.I stood up
customers, and she wanted help in suicide."Iand walked over to the bed, where she was
don't know," I said. I've been in fightssitting. "I can," said."Please, hold me,
before with people for trying to sell herointhen," she said. I put my arms around her
in the wrong areas. Helping someone dieand laid down. Slowly, sleep came to both of
might be just as bad."Please," she said, "Ius, peace in our minds.I would wake and feel
know people who told me you couldher skin. It was cold. Life,Punkerslut (or
help.""Look," I said, "If you have a problemAndy Carloff) has been writing essays and
with your parents, just try to settle it withpoetry on social issues which have caught his
them. If it's your boyfriend, get a new one.attention for several years. His website
I'm not interested in murdering anyone." Iprovides a complete list of all of these
let her know straight out that I didn't wantwritings. His life experience includes
to partake in this and I wasn't beinghomelessness, squating in New Orleans and LA,
open-minded about it at all."Listen," I needdropping out of high school, getting expelled
a drug to kill me and I need some place tofrom college for "subversive activities," and
take it," she said."You want to take it in mya myriad of other revolutionary actions.



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