these, the things nearest to me lately
musty incense, a glass of port
and an eighth an ounce of pot
hannah and i sit on the carpet
and roll joints all evening long
playing with my cat and talking
we're both fresh out
and thank god for that
i have my picture of brian jones
and am more involved
in a sort of lazy shrine-worship
than anything else
my hometown is beginning to feel
like a hometown
where you grow up but not where you live
a teabag run out and dry
or some fruit barren of seeds
time i think
to seek new stomping grounds
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