the precision it takes to pry the tiny bag
open in order to enjoy the fruits of the
product awaiting my inhalation seems…
like it takes forever.
it’s incredibly difficult to practice patience
when the product you’re yearning for
produces the opposite of patience;
so, i take a break, smoke a newport,
take twenty deep breaths, stare at
the bees pollinating the uncut flowers
while the weeds propel their way through
the cracks in the back porch cement
screaming for light while dismissing
the stupid fucking backyard decoration.
i’m back to the bag, practicing yoga
like mantra so that i can participate
in the high i’ve been desiring…
finally…i’ve hit it…and it’s amazing.