Hey,
you remember that time you rolled a spliff,
crept out into the frost with me,
and we spoke for hours about nothing at all.
–used to be that’s what I based relationships on,
used to be
used to be
who the fuck has use for used to be?
you and me,
we stopped giving a shit,
you’re pouring tequila from a waterbottle,
and I’m showing up to tutoring drunk–maybe high,
somewhere between when we spent a quarter junior year putting together the best damn lit magazine that school will ever see,
and when we’re getting high in the woods down behind the dorms,
I mean fuck,
WE WATCHED TROLLS 2 TOGETHER,
and that shit was amazing!
I may be able to out drink you shot-for-shot-for–
but damn can you out smoke me,
as we’re hiding behind that little coffee shack,
assembling a pipe to smoke that amazing shit peddled by that horse’s ass.
or maybe it’s the best thanksgiving I’ve had since my grandmother passed,
sitting late at night getting high with your mom,
watching baman piderman on youtube–laughing our fucking asses off,
and I don’t give a shit if this poem is filled with pop-culture refrences,
if it’s gonna be dated by the time we’re dead/and gone.
fucking ron burgundy and his breakfast fetish,
makes you smile,
and that man should be awarded a medal,
for the laughter he sucks from us as we’re on our third bowl of kush.
you ain’t my only best friend, lady,
but you and me, we be besties.
and life does suck,
but it’s the people that make it worth it,
isn’t it?
