Spring 2010

The Drugs

for Simon Evans

I admire
these drugs
that we got
from rubbing up
against the city
while all the clouds
peeped down from above
or when you stole
all those tree drugs
in cider donut country just
as the mums were coming
into bloom and only tub
drugs could get the high
five of our hands unglued
I miss the Wednesday Laundromat drugs
that folded us into pine squares
or the free county fair drugs
that made us sick as pigs
with eight pickled legs looked on
in a pale slow formaldehyde daze
Now it’s all fast-action
no-talk kinds of drugs
where your eyelids roll back
like some kind of obstacle
for birds to peck at
I miss skin drugs
where everything becomes flat
and then wrinkles up
when you move away
or the kind
of double disc
drugs thugs in
the nineties
rushed through
before getting shot
while we invented
last minute drugs
on the elk reserve
with the old squatters
who let us share
floodplain doses after sunup
cut with nothing but whiskey
but most of all I miss
the trick before the drugs
when everyone gets so excited
that they begin to yawn
like manifold tenors clearing their throats
before bursting into what red foliage
signals the just beginning of song

CHRIS MARTIN

 

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"This is What It Feels Like to Be Old Snow," video by Colin Wallace Guthrie