When life hits you in the gut and you've puked enough what then? Better breathe deep enough to clean the stink. I think I am breathing well enough. Well not weed smoke but the hotel proprietor thought so. Knocked on my door last night about marijuana smell on the floor. So I invited him in to take a whiff but he declined. Funny how tatted jeans tees poets are invariably associated with a certain stereotype. I did smell the weed though. Happy patrons no doubt toking the oppression away. Why not share the love before all it goes up in smoke. We got trigger happy kooks running amok trying to outdo each other in war rhetoric. I say breathe deeper than you've ever did before. And the eclipse might blind us all.
