i think that if i take it into too much consideration,
the momental magic seems to be shaved away.
there were twice as many stars as usual-
as if spring in santa monica had been relocated
to great fields of eden.
did i know you well enough
to share it with you?
i felt very small- but small with you.
be it young stoners, hunched and slumped over like rocks
in their private pocket of the world, miles away yet all the same,
their puffs of weed drifting into the sky,
as if i had discovered the grand source of all clouds.
a little boy and his brother ran up to us,
and one asked if we had a lighter.
i frowned, and said no, and you said no;
and despite that, the little boy yelled into the great world,
‘we’re trying to light a bong!’
and we laughed, and his brother laughed,
and we were quiet again.