Kathy's Hashish
We used to pinch Kathy's hashish.
One little trip at a time so she wouldn't notice.
It really didn't matter as we had total immunity.
Because she'd never go whining to the cherries.
We'd light up in the bushes beside the train tracks.
Amidst the bum litter, bottle caps, and broken glass.
Getting paranoid and sillier with each puff.
A couple of tie-dyed comedians giggling in the brush.
We'd roll out of our hashish cloud, smiling wide and red-eyed.
With a raging case of the munchies and acute cotton mouth.
We'd devour bowls of mac and cheese while watching M.T.V
Waiting for the sweet sandman and his nickel bag of sleep.
That was a thin slice, a pink puppy phase in my life.
I stumbled into a brunette angel and got out just in time.
Kathy graduated from hashish bowl to heroin spoon.
Spent two decades gathering pieces of her broken mind.
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