4/20— weatherman said it’d be less than gucci, signs were he’d be right. Whatever the weather. Up early to twist trees in living room light. Had to meet the CSSDP and head to the mountain. The scene was dank—pockets of soaked connoisseurs blowing piff smoke.
After a window of light drizzle this dude started dancing with the water pipe. Might as well have been whistling on the bridge. Rain came on heavy— the DJ tent was bumping dancehall bangers punctuated by patois interjections, bleeaise erb seen?! Surrender to the rain to stay dry, then decided to dip.
On the bus ride, argued the side of the drug traders: legalization places the black market in government’s hands. Seed money gone. Nothing to do with what you know— dead leaves clumped on the grate. There are vast issues in every direction. Which thugs to give it to?
Devil’s advocate: the new fashionable malady. Blazed bowls then shook hands, red-eyed the 8 blocks to home. Never mind photos that could have been taken. Hungry for Pringles and Coke in a can, hit a corner store on the way.