remember that late, winter night
when you picked up some dank weed,
in the boondocks of your hometown?
everything was tinted with a bruised violet.
maybe it was just a friend. an old high school friend,
someone you never really were fond of anyway,
because he was a sexist pig and a hoodlum prick
who made fun of you for being a “major punk.”
well aren’t you still one?
shit, he might be on to something. maybe, that’s why you can’t
roll an L to save your life or do anything right. don’t you
know that scrolling up a blunt is not a big deal in the grand
scheme of things and that preparing a blunt can also be figurative?
like “far out,” an existential orgasm can just burst in your veins.
wake up! this is happening now!
you shift to the right in the passenger seat of your friend’s car,
trying to jam to 90’s rap, but all you can think about is,
“why did that girl buy a pregnancy test at a 7 eleven?”
WL
