I came home to learn
My collaborator from high school,
Bob, was strung-out on “reds.”
What I mean to say,
He was addicted to Seconal.
“Reds,” “red devils,” “red dillies,” 
Sleeping pills.
Five, 100 milligram,
Lilly F-40s capsules,
Red/orange colored, bullet
-shaped Pulvules, every day.
The same pills with alcohol
Killed Marilyn Monroe.
I couldn’t judge him
For his drug addiction
Unless I tried it,
Took the drug myself.
The stuff was easy to obtain
Almost anywhere in town,
Even the chief of police
Was trafficking red pills.
I went with Bob one morning
In his ’68 Volkswagen bug
To an apartment on Clinton Avenue,
Last one, near the carport.
Of a 19-year-old wife with a child
He was making it with.
Also, his supplier of “reds.”
She was wearing a loose bathrobe.
Annoyed by my presence,
“Who’s he?” she asked indignantly.
“A friend.” He got his supply,
She folded the contents in a Kleenex,
Put it in his front jean pocket.
We left before her husband came home.
Her spouse was suspicious,
Thought their baby
Bore no resemblance to him.
After dinner, Bob picked me up.
In the car, he swallowed three pills
And smiled like a circus clown.
He handed me two, I took one.
We drove to a beer bar
By the state college.
The jukebox blaring,
Creedence Clearwater Revival,
“Bad Moon Rising.”
Mostly male students drinking
$1.25 pitchers of draft beer
(about 2 ½ 8-ounce glasses).
After a few drinks
I began to feel less anxious.
Drunk quicker than usual,
Not the usual drunkenness
From beer consumption.
The effects of the red pill,
I was intoxicated. Drugged.
When I stood up to toast friends,
My speech was slurred.
Time expanded & contracted,
Anxieties disappeared, faces warped.
I became surly & belligerent.
Wanted to fight someone,
A guy whose looks I didn’t like.
After three pitchers each,
Bob was ready to leave.
I was dizzy, tried to walk upright
And appear somewhat lucid.
He wanted to drive to her place
Except her husband hadn’t left
For the midnight shift yet.
When he got to the car,
Bob left the chauffeuring to me.
Driving away, I seemed capable.
Streets I’d driven hundreds of times
Now looked different, however.
I didn’t recognize anything.
“Where are we going?” he asked,
From a slumped-over position.
“To her place, I think.”
My condition was worsening, his too.
Known locations became unfamiliar.
We were lost at 3:30 a.m.
Driving around for another half hour,
I turned left into a parking lot.
Then right on the sidewalk.
It was dark, no one was around.
I drove the VW summarily
Between the building fronts,
Telephone poles, fire hydrants,
Under a sign that read:
CLOVIS POLICE DEPARTMENT.
I was on the street post-haste,
Got the hell out-of-there.
Trying hard to drive straight
At a semi-reasonable speed,
Being cognizant of traffic signals.
When things began to look the bleakest,
I made it to Bob’s parents’ house.
I shook him, pointed him to the door,
Left the keys in the ignition.
I staggered home in the night.