One way or another

Back then it was always about the drugs and the music on a firm foundation of peace and love and oh yeah sex. The TV might be on without the sound of course cause the music was always, always there, everything was guitar then wasn't it? And so loud we had to learn new modes of yelling conversation but that was limited being hard to talk when you're sucking the acrid lung grabbing smoke and you couldn't even talk with your hands them being full with a beer in one and you had to be ready to pass the number, or whatever the vehicle used to rock and stone you with the ritual of draw deeply hold pass then expel your divine blitzedness back into the room and once I wondered aloud that if we exhaled into balloons couldn't we get stoned indefinitely without ever copping again? It made sense at the time. Sorry you missed album covers it was art you could enjoy tilted while cupping spilled bud with seeds rolling rolling. I have albums still green dust coated if you look real close sometimes caught in little razor blade ridges from the really good nights when they called it T or something but it wasn't; I think it really started with a P and if it would put a horse down you only had to sprinkle just a little bit and fire er up to bliss a room. It was a team sport substitution on the fly allowed with random comings and goings which could drastically alter the buzz dynamics, by who came and went. Fuck those knocks at the door, was best if you just slipped in, we hated surprises until we knew for sure they were good ones. Paranoia strikes deep remember. Like looking in your mirror and seein a police car right DC? Almost cut my hair, no wonder.

Scene set it would come down one of two ways usually, least she and I hoped it would, it almost always did thank god. Proximity closed in dim smoky light, rolling smoke rising, drifting, hanging, hugging everything, eyes and tongues blurred in blue light and always the loud remember, always the loud. Loud could send you to jail depending on the fuckers next door or downstairs, why we hated those knocks at the door, think we were that paranoid for nothing? Turn down Smoke on the Water? Uh huh, sure, fuck you, not til someone knocks at the door.

Yes, one of two ways and either was fine with me because I'm nothing if not patient and I knew even then that pleasure is a journey not a destination and I don't need an itinerary, just wanna be on that road. Those slingy, usually white or red (white ones wonderfully nipply) halters that neck tied and back wrapped, knotted there in the bare backed middle, how can you not love a woman when she can come undone by one tug? Well, those, cause their bras were home with the one pair of pants you owned that weren't denim of which you had two kinds, very long ground dragging and wide, don't forget wide down there at the bottom, and short, very short. But slingy and breast hugging and barely holding sometimes over tattered and frayed jeans was a uniform that didn't need a number or your name on the back and maybe that was the home version and on the road it was a tank or T but it didn't matter because it was always always good it was just like that, all the time. Band T's from last weeks show and I liked my jeans thinner and worner the better whether short or long and socks? Home in the drawer or maybe not even there they were for what work, funerals? So stoned and esoteric and all this bare everywhere and don't forget the guitars and I'm to blame for my behavior? I don't think so. I had choices I didn't make. And I could catch her eyes, no, let's start over. You know that awareness of someone singled out in a crowd, no matter the arena it can be a mass gathering for christs sake when you know where that person is every second without looking, that awareness? Tethered together and hopefully no one else notices and you always think they don't, right? I want it so bad I think I can get away with anything. Plus risk thickens me down the left leg of my thin jeans and since I know where you are at all times I can catch your eyes and give you the secret look that guides your gaze down to see that it's true and and you know it's for you, no doubt it's for you, and for all you nipply girls yay this is when white is right so you nipple up and arch an arch only I can see and the way you look at me lengthens both me and my look and we sigh and smile our wonder which way it's gonna come down smile.