Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Poem

December 25, 2011 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles

A Hit For An Airline Ticket

part 1

 

My name is Shane, I’m a drug dealer and I want to go home for Christmas. Just one more hit to a desperate junkie and I’ll have my airfare and then this year I will get home for Christmas.

Deal is done, hit man’s paid, I have money in my pocket. It’s November and another hit and I’ll buy my ticket home. Another hit for an airline ticket.

My body’s shaking my veins are aching. My mind is only thinking in black. Money in my pocket, one more hit for an airline ticket.

The pain is gone the deal is done I popped my airline ticket. The grass is orange, life is good, I am God and speed is my servant. I need another hit for my airline ticket.

December is here, the snow is falling, I need to sell another hit so I can hitch-hike home for Christmas. Just one more hit for hitch-hiking food.

Deal is done, hit man’s paid, I have money in my pocket. The highway’s blocked with snow. I need to sell a big hit for an airline ticket.

My body’s sweating, my veins are screaming my mind’s gone. I have money in my pocket, I need to sell a big hit for an airline ticket.

Freedom at last no more screaming, I popped my airline ticket. There are jelly beans falling from the sky and the street lights are dancing with me. I need another hit for an airline ticket.

Christmas day is here, I have coins in my pocket. What a great Christmas this will be. A burger with my friends at Denny’s then we will go to the beach and pop our airline tickets.

 

A Hit For An Airline Ticket

part 2

 

My name is Shane, I’m a drug dealer and I want to go home for Christmas. Just one more hit to a desperate junkie and I will have my airfare and then this year I will get home for Christmas.

Deal is done, hit man’s paid, I have money in my pocket. It’s November and another hit and I’ll buy my ticket home. Another hit for an airline ticket.

My body’s shaking, my veins aching, my mind is only thinking black. Money in my pocket, one more hit for an airline ticket.

My body’s sweating, my veins are screaming my body screams, bricks are bouncing through my head. Oh God help me, I cannot take any more hours of this. Another hit for an airline ticket.

My sheets are soaked, I stink of wine the air is suffocating. But my stomach is hungry and my head is clear. I need another hit for an airline ticket.

Deal is done, hit man’s paid, another junkie’s high. And high I will be too soon. Cause though I’m scared I sold a hit for an airline ticket.

My body’s shaking, I feel sick to the bone, I can’t meet these people again. I need to pop my airline ticket and spend Christmas at Denny’s again. Pop a hit or an airline ticket?

Oh is this worth it my body’s shaking I’m getting high. The hostess brings me a meal I’m too scared to eat ’cause I sold a hit for this airline ticket.

 

A Hit For An Airline Ticket

part 3

My name is Shane and I’m a drug dealer and I wanted to get home for Christmas. Sold some hits to some desperate junkies. Now I’m almost home and this is Christmas day.

My body’s freezing cold, I have lost my mind. The snow’s piled high. I’m three doors away from home, two doors, this is my home. I sold a hit for an airline ticket.

Should I go in or should I get high? It’s too late now. The door is open. Kid sister Munno is risking the ice running at me screaming, “Shane” cause I sold a hit for an airline ticket.

This is my family and Christmas. My family’s holding me. Munno’s still screaming. Oh this house seems to hold peace. I blurt out, “I sold a hit for an airline ticket”.

They don’t seem to hear me, Mum and even Dad are crying. Munno’s still screaming. Oh God I’m going to cry. I blurt out again, “I sold a hit for an airline ticket”.

They don’t hear me, Munno grabs my hand and drags me to the tree. There’s a gift under it for me. How many years had they been putting my gift under the tree waiting for me to sell a hit for an airline ticket?

With my new Montreal Canadiens jersey on seated amongst the smiles at the supper table. My Dad with a tear in his eye said to me, “Welcome home my prodigal son”. I said but I sold a hit for an airline ticket.

With peace in my heart I listened as Dad gave thanks. And watched him cut the turkey. Dad looked me in the eye and said words I’ll never forget, “Son we have been praying for you. We give thanks that God allowed you to sell a hit for an airline ticket”.

 

New Zealand born Kelvin Fowler is a poet, pastor, storyteller and cyclist. He has lived extensively with the world’s poor and counts amongst his friends, homeless, transvestites and orphans. He has lived in a cardboard house, on the streets, and presently lives in a red brick former Soviet apartment building. His poetry reflects the adventure that he calls life. Kelvin has been published in numerous literary journals and can be contacted through his blog www.lunch.lt

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