Hooka squats in the living room, Buddha-
esque. Undulating spirals of sapphire
smoke hula up her nose. That buzz.
That buzz that slows your blood,
calls you back to bed like a lover,
soothes your inner asshole. BC bud,
best in the world, worth risking jail for.
High-resolution satellite images, narcs’ warrant
executed Tuesday, grow-op raided Wednesday.
Dozens of firearms, five thousand plants.
Big bust for a small town,
Constable Cook says for export,
for sure. Cultivation facilities dismantled,
straight people relieved, green party over,
but Zoe cried. It was the best job ever.
Dope dealers pay well, her boyfriend
sold product at school. Their responsibilities
included digging a tunnel under the border,
explaining black fingernails and muddy jeans
came from dirt biking at the gravel pit.
Parents were shocked.
We thought she was on MSN.
We thought he was on the Internet,
with her, boy’s father chiding,
it’s Appleton, son, not Marijuanaton.
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