While Letters build Up Like Dust

Tipped, a plastic bottle spills
Its pale pink pills, each escape,
escaped over-the-counter,
Burning bitterly in blood.

A laugh, choked off, spatters
against the mirror, where two
red-rimmed eyes stare vacantly
At the wet red teeth of death,

Smiling for four weeks in wait
While letters build up like dust;
No one knocks until the pin-
Striped man comes about the bill.

That fine suit was not so fine
When he left, brown and bitter,
Dripping down-chin just like that
Dry black laugh on the mirror.