Thirty-nine pills

I tip the plastic bottle over.
The pills spill out.
I watch them settling on my desk.
With the shrunken eyes of a dealer.
I count them in multiples of three.
Smooth under my shaking fingers.
I take too many as it is.
And habits are filthy.
I slip the last pill into the bottle.
With the tight relief of an addict.
Thirty-nine in total.
The Vitamin C will last ‘til next month.
My saviour.