I know an opportunist thief of pills.
She likes the gloss a light narcotic adds
to sedentary mornings. Norco kills
her appetite; a little oxy pads
her nervousness. She won’t shop on the street
for drugs — she guards against addiction’s curse.
She pilfers what she finds at friends’ — discreet
and sly, she tells herself she could be worse.

There’s little chance her friends will intervene.
The issue and the secret’s up to her.
Today she’s been imagining the scene
if ever she’s uncovered. Thoughts occur —
ideas emerge — the fantasy is dread.
Returning that last pill, she vapes instead.