Modern Day Weed

I haven’t toked in many years And though it’s just as well, In Amsterdam three years ago, My nose picked up that smell. I breathed in deep and reminisced About my younger days, Those weekend nights engulfed in such A mellow stoned-out haze. These days in New York City, though, A scent pervades the air. It’s weed, I’m told, but to the old stuff It does not compare. In fact, its noxious odor Comes the closest to a skunk. I wonder if imbibers Are aware they stink, stank, stunk! When we partook so long ago, The ways that one could tell Were our beatific faces And our cravings – not our smell!