Sign of Addiction

The time we drove 137 miles 

up the windy California coast 

to visit a castle constructed 

by an emperor who collected 

the world twice over and stuffed 

his overflowing coffers with wild 

zebras and white fallow deer.

He caged Neptune in his turquoise pool 

and nailed Spanish and Italian 

history to his hungry ceilings. 

The gold plaster was enchanting 

but not as memorable as your 

compulsive hand and the swiftness 

with which it withdrew from mine 

so you could return to your car 

for the pills you were devouring 

to satiate a monster 

neither of us could yet see.