She cut the powder
with a razor blade.
I gasped
at the sight of it.
She ignored me.
Or perhaps,
was so concentrated
that my audible surprise
did not even register.
It seemed such a dangerous
tool to carry around
in one's purse.
A plastic credit card
would have done the trick,
neatly dividing drug lines.
But that wasn't her style,
I would come to learn.
She preferred the dangerous choice
in everything possible.
A taste for self-destruction.