Drug

You’d pull up home
around 5.30
and my little heart
would freeze.

I’d hear the car pull up
and turn in to park.

I’d hear the sound
of the tyres, then
the handbrake,
then the engine, turning off.

After 10-15 seconds of silence
I’d hear the door open
and slam shut
and I’d listen to those
ten or twenty footsteps
leading around the car,
across the pavement, and
down the steps.

The key would turn
in the door
and the calm
would fall to pieces.

The anxiety balloon
that was filling in my body
and my head
would burst.

Now, for every tenner you give me,
you might as well be handing me
the drink, ciggies and drugs 
yourself.

It’s just a good thing
I’m not the same man
as you.

It’s a good thing that
one of us was listening
to Bryan Ferry
when he sang

that love
is the drug.