County lines spread evil
across all the living and the dead
their line is our time
we need them, dead.

Or fled to
a spring day in late fall,
when she can no longer cope: 
be tall or not be crumpled or be  a spuperfluity
of hope.

She has lost the lines that link
her to her family tree 
so now the link is broken
and she is free.

Road, rail, phone,
needle, plunger, sink
in an unguarded atonement.
I forgot to think.

Her lines are enmeshed
in this stinking net
that offers her a line to sniff
For free. Woopee!

Crack cocaine, heroin,
take away that once-famed jewel, liberty.
speeding through her veins, her broken arteries,
there's firing in the brain: O yes,this is what you need
her brain's the same again. 

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