Like a grape’s pride of place
You’re waiting by the bedside
Can I talk you for a test drive
Dusty bass amp and a full hamper
Walls damp, burning sticks of nag champa
To cover up the stink
We smoke sticky until it’s silent
Some smoke until they’re in the asylum
Spliff longer than a hoplite’s pilum
Mound in the ashtray where we’ve piled ‘em.
Alchemisland 
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