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one little girl fast asleep on
the shoulder of each guy,
I am very high. And also
a little bit out of my mind.
With the kids in bed, the guys
want to party. I’ve partied
solo for hours. Can I party
more, just because I have
company? [No-brainer. Ha!]
Smoking ice is the weirdest
thing. I mean, one minute
you’re totally pissed at the world
(not to mention the people
who populate the place).
The next, all is forgiven,
everything right, and you
can’t really remember why
you were so mad in the first
place. It’s irritating because one
of life’s true joys is being
righteously angry about
something. But load the pipe
and the “righteous” part
vanishes in a puff of smoke.
Smoke
There’s been a lot of that,
in and out of my lungs,
in and out of my room,
in and out of my life, for
the past two-point-five weeks.
