I am back in familiar territory. At zero.
Back to where nothing works but the stars.
To the night that knows no bounds.
To the crickets and the frogs.
That’s it.
He found the sweet spot but
refused to believe that plot could be contagious. It
turned out to be very post-hip. Then off to a snore of a reading
[Someone I was later attracted to. Someone I would soon
emulate. Someone for whom mere respect and gratitude
would never suffice.].
Got totally ripped. Took a little puff on a stale spliff.
Then zonked until 5 in the morning. If I can do that for a month
then perhaps I’ll treat myself to a baked chicken.
It used to be, even at zero, there was too much to contain.
Now I could probably crack my head open without blinking.
