seventypercent

SEVENTY PERCENT WATER AND

THE SAME TO YOU

despite the fact you fill your bong from the bedroom sink, still a lack of fluoride

in your mouth, gums, teeth, bones, whatever— never drank

the glass of milk as you were told, didn’t grow right;

the back of your throat tightens at the

thought of choking and then you do anyway.

reactive me- already gasping for air; went down the

wrong pipe, pipe dreams dissolving, stash dissolving,

some magic trick where we’re both left drugless and

quaking, trembling on the driveway at midnight trying

desperately to get the fucking lighter to work &

the wind won’t give us a break, no one gives breaks,

you have to work, everything you want comes with nails attached,

already digging into the meat of your palm.