The House at 409—by Michael Gant

Michael Gant grew up in Baltimore in the 50s and 60s. The break-up of his second marriage led to his addiction to cocaine, his arrest for theft, and his subsequent homelessness. More recently, the death by overdose of a close friend strengthened his wish to change his life. He has been clean for a year now, and has found a place to live off the streets.

The House at 409

The empty house at 409
This is the house all addicts find.
It’s the same address on every block,
It’s the one we find after we cop.
The friend, the girl, the drug in line
Are all set up to blow your mind.
You take the coke, go over there,
The guy with dope is in the chair,
The girl is in the other room—
Oh yes, you hope to freak her soon.
The plan is good and going well:
The guy with dope has gone to Hell,
The one with coke has blown his heart;
It blew his chest, oh yes, apart.
The girl is in the other room:
Oh yes, it did become her tomb.
And now this house at 409
Will get three more another time.