"How is it that we come to know this young sistuh so intimately? There’s her cool revelation that shooting up actually felt “gooooood” and “gooder than doin it” and that she wants to “do it again.” There’s no shame in her sexuality or her “remembered high.” We come to learn all these details, but never through the lens of exploitation, sensationalism, or judgment. This is because Sanchez never intrudes on the poem. The explicit “i” narrator does not exist in this poem. A lesser poet would relish some kind of confession or faux street credibility for witnessing. But Sanchez’s poem is the anodyne for voyeurism. "