When I moved to the suburbs
one of the first things that I did was
pick a day to do shrooms at the park.
It’s the suburbs,
they have great parks,
and I love doing shrooms outside.
So I got some of my friends together,
and those friends brought some of
their friends,
and we all took shrooms
at the park.
Only it wasn’t a good day for it.
It was too hot.
And all of my friends started
melting.
Their skin sweat off of
their bones and their bones
charred to a crisp.
It was some of the most wicked shit
that I have ever seen.
One of the most gnarley,
gruesome,
obscene…
it was fucking horrifying.
But that’s not the important part.
The important part is that while
this was going on,
I felt almost fine.
Actually,
I has having a pretty good trip.
I had some energy,
and I wanted to go for a drive.
“You can’t drive,” one guy said.
He was a friend of one of my friends.
One of the sober ones.
Skin intact.
I said, “fuck you.”
But then he said, “ok, dude,
“I’ll just take you for a ride.”
And so we went.
And we listened to some music.
Then he gave me the aux cord and said,
“play whatever you wanna.”
I said, “right on, dude,”
and then I turned on some old Nirvana.
“Oh fuck ya, Lou,
“I fucking love these guys.”
And from there the two of us
became friends.
We would hangout at my apartment,
and we would meet up at the gym.
I got him a job at my job,
and we partied on the weekends.
One night we hooked up with
the same girl.
One night we puked
in the same toilet.
We even started a bowling team,
and we spent a lot of time
going bowling.
It all started on that hot day,
when everyone was melting.
And then it ended one day
when I left those suburbs,
without any telling.
It’s been a year now and I
haven’t seen him once.
Life’s funny that way.
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