(a.k.a. Reefer Madness)
once upon a time in the late 40’s
shortly after i began cutting teeth…
the nursery became...
all of a sudden
baby’s first opium den—
mom still marvels how i
stopped crying and
dropped right off to sleep
just like that
after massaging a dollop
of her favorite
over-the-counter opiate
into the tender and swollen
teething sores of my
five-month-old
gummy-gum-gums
PAREGORIC: the mom’s best friend
a product that really worked for once—
and my brain (no dummy, even then)
as eager to learn as any pavlovian dog
coming alive with messages flashing
in and among the synapses:
brain to gums, brain to gums, come in please...
roger, brain, this is gums, go ahead—
10-4 gums, that last dose was a beaut
whatever you do, just keep’em coming— you copy?
roger wilco that, brain— over and out...
yes, message received:
laugh and the world laughs with you
cry and you cry and get stoned
i like to imagine my cunning little self
swaddled in a powder-blue security blanket
jonesing for my next fix—
wonder if i snored like a banshee
as a little babe coked to the gills...
bet i did a lot of gratuitous ‘crying’...
hell… i’d have cut extra teeth if i could’ve
(Click image to read the dosages)
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