There is a major drug epidemic in Staten Island. Recently, police started carrying Narcan, an opiate antidote. It has saved so many lived. But not all are caught in time.
This poem made me cry a lot.
But Where Did You Mean To Go?, a poem by Drem
Written July 8, 2016
Taking the sticky one way and only train
built back when this island
was home to hicks
and ocean sea side vacation bungalows
rich people lived in.
Down to the North Shore
like every other weekday.
It was just like any other weekday.
Business casual. Briefcase.
Work phone on and cell phone off.
Taking the one way sticky train
and swiping last stop
and swiping on up
to a place you might have thought
you knew you were going.
No, not Manhattan.
And not in your home.
You died on the water
in a bathroom stall
with your best friend- not your sister,
in your arm.
And I’m sitting here
wondering if you thought
you’d make it to Manhattan.
Wondering if you thought
you’d come home to our family.
Wondering if you wanted
to die on the choppy waves
this past Monday morning.
What were your intentions?
Was this intended?
You really didn’t seem depressed.
But we are so good at hiding it.
Xanax after Xanax.
Prescription after prescription.
Or was that just a jack,
my little secret junkie,
to get you through your Monday,
the worst day of the week?
Now my worst day of the week.
Funeral’s on Wednesday.
Announced in the paper on Tuesday.
Islanders write on online
they happy you are dead.
Call you another
Just another scumbag.
You left your two babies
so strangers are judgmental.
They don’t know the struggle.
How you tried and how you loved.
Until the very end.
I told your kids myself
that’s where you got sleepy and left.
They can’t look at the ocean no more.
And that’s really hard
because we live on an island
and are all surrounded by water
They don’t even like bathtubs.
I tell them you’re a mermaid angel
who just didn’t get her magic Narcan in time.
And you were suddenly called home to Poseidon.
You’re something like Ariel to them,
minus the red hair
and plus some track marks and not ever being fully here
when you were here.
Now they love the Little Mermaid,
are afraid of syringes,
and miss you very, very, very much.
We all miss you very, very, very much.
And love you very, very, very much.
Thank you for reading this.
(C) Drem 2016