at the blood bank.
he's making a withdrawal,
but the old fashion way.
he's filled out a form
and has a prescription
from his doctor back home
in Transylvania.
he's trying to change.
he's trying not to sneak up
on unsuspecting necks
and biting down,
draining them of precious
fluid.
he's in a twelve-step program.
i see him when i go
for my cake addiction.
we wave and nod, he smiles,
showing me his
sharp fangs, but then
shyly puts his hand
to his mouth to cover
them up. he's trying really
hard, as i am as i walk
by the vending machine,
seeing two Little Debbie
cupcakes behind the glass.
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