It’s Friday night, late <br />Daylight drank up its last call hours ago <br />and passed out in the cab on the way home <br />My body has taken the night off, down for the count, <br />on strike along with the sun <br />My brain, however, has a life of its own and <br />cannot rest without its drug of choice <br />Just one little fix, a quick double click, <br />a midnight snack for the mind <br />Consumed by the craving, I follow my feet <br />down to the dungeon of my thoughts <br />Fingers behaving automatically <br />OK, they say, just don’t ask me to think <br />They tap out their dance on the keyboard <br />taking dictation from above <br />Then a rhythm kicks in and my heart pumps along. <br />Nice to know it still beats for something <br />A hallucination of words flows through my fingertips <br />The rush comes now and like a chemical fix <br />all is right with the world <br />for one more night<br /><br />Lori Boulard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/005-poetry-fix/
