sat on the porch with you-
we watched the traffic,
the screen door banging in the wind,
we laughed like kids as
the man with the big dog
that took the big dump,
scooped away the shit with a scowl--
the walking girls went by,
swinging their arms to raise
target heart rates and
you offered me a brownie,
grinning wickedly over ingredients
not suggested by Betty Crocker-
I waved it away with a smile,
lamenting inside
about how things never change.
as you played me the mix tape
you have worked on all week,
calling in sick,
and smoking too much dope...
I realized--
you get high on drugs and
I get high on these little moments
that make me want to scribble
in my composition book so I
don't ever forget.
I am high right now.
"Call before you come next time-
I'll shave," you say
as I kiss you goodbye
on the cheek.
you will never change-
and neither will I.
and the saddest truth of all
is that though I have never asked
you have never offered.
|