image from thisiscollasal.com
poem submitted to "Stoner Collaboration" poetry contest, Charles Messina, sponsor, 6/9/202.
I was sitting on the corner, stoned When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned How could this be, she rests in peace Right beside my loving niece I answered the phone, and my auntie said "I know you think that I am dead" "I'm alive"- my auntie moaned Or- could it be that you're just- Stoned" Then a pigeon in sunglasses strutted by slow, said, “Dude, your aura’s starting to glow.” He handed me fries from a paper sack, then whispered, “Your aunt wants her flip-flops back.” A mailbox nearby began humming a tune, something about taxes and the shape of the moon. It winked at me twice with its metal lock, and muttered, “Kid, you’re higher than a mismatched sock.”
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