I don't know that my neighbor died from an overdose. I don't know that his wife is still addicted.
I know he was a welder. I know he worked hard. I know he bought his house in 1988.
I know a piece of ship fell on him and broke his back. I know he was laid up with disability for the better part of a year. I know he went back to work. I don't know that he was prescribed painkillers.
I know his wife went on disability for carpal tunnel. I know she's got prescribed painkillers.
I know that prescription painkillers when you're on disability are a $10 copay. I know oxycontin is 10 times that without, and I know that there's an economy in disability Oxy.
I don't know that the random dudes who show up every other day are trading drugs.
I don't know that they're shouting all the time with slurred speech because they're out of their fuckin' minds.
I don't know that the ropes of scarring across the kid's back are related to child abuse.
I don't know that the story about him having a heart attack because he was taking too many diet pills while working out at the club is bullshit. I know he was in his 60s, and I know he was retired, and I know I never saw him exercise.
I don't know that their daughter drives around as much as she does in pursuit of a fix.
I don't know that she was high when she totaled her car, which still sits out front like a mute testament to narrowing options, diminishing mobility and vanishing hope.
I know that they worked hard, now they don't, and one of them is dead, and I come from a long line of welders.