“yeah, i don’t know why they don’t
legalize this stuff,” karsten said.

i watched the thick plume of smoke
snake up out of his joint
and collect at the top of the ceiling

“yeah,” i said

“it’s like, can you imagine
if they made alcohol illegal
again
like they should, cuz the stuff is
way more lethal
than weed”

“it is,” i said.
“i even hate being around people
who drink alcohol”

“they’re scary,” i said

“they are,” karsten added

“plus they destroy other people’s
lives with their shit,” i said

“yeah,” he said

“pass me that joint,” i said

“here you go”

i inhaled
leaned back
looked out the window
at a tiny wisp of smoke
coming out of the chimney
of the building across the street

“i forgot what we were
talking about,” karsten said

“it’s okay,” i said
“i did, too”

Image CreditEhud Neuhaus

Lance Watson's poetry operates on the intersection of space and time. Haha. Okay, that's bullshit. But what the fuck. Lance Watson writes poetry and other shit sometimes when he gets high, which is more often than probably most people should, but as I said, what the fuck. LOL. Have fun, folks. --Lance Watson

P.S. If you've never written about yourself in the third person, as though you were dead, you should try it sometime. Why? How the fuck would I know. It's fun.