the joint i won’t smoke
the joint i won’t smoke
is sitting in the junk drawer in the kitchen
it is buried beneath my student loan breakdown
and a menu to a chinese place
that makes some decent won ton
it was given to me by larry dial on christmas eve
who came stumbling in the place
reeking of cognac
and said, here kid, merry christmas
before shoving something in my shirt pocket
i didn’t even know it was a joint at the time
i just thought that it was larry being an asshole again
stuffing his garbage in my shirt
until i started smelling sweet skunk later on
then i knew
the joint i won’t smoke is wrapped tightly
it’s a pro job if i ever saw one
i wonder if it’s of the medical marijuana variety
because larry has a lot of shit wrong with him
bum knee
bum wrist
bad eyes
an ex-wife who still gives him shit
that might be why he’s always on the cognac
and has pot to give out to ungrateful guys like me for christmas gifts
but i won’t smoke the thing for some reason
even though i could use a good pot high
and i’m always bemoaning the fact
that i don’t know any dealers in this city
i’ve gotten much more suspicious in my old age
and i don’t trust larry as far as i can throw him
i keep thinking maybe he spiked the j with something
because he seems so surprised to see me now
but that might just be me being paranoid
i mean just yesterday i told my wife
that someone might rob us for our toaster
just because you could see it through our kitchen window
that toaster can’t even toast a bagel
so i don’t see why anyone would want it
plus i don’t think larry is capable of murder
assault maybe
but not murder
it’s this kind of thinking that tells me
i should probably smoke that joint
loosen up a little bit
throw on some marley
some a tribe called quest
and let the crazy ride
but i won’t
my faith in humanity has sunk to a new low
that i can’t even allow myself to get high that way
my trust factor is the pits
i’ll guess i’ll just keep letting the liquor store man poison me
at least that shit comes with a seal
that you have to break before imbibing
and i’ll let the joint that i’ll never smoke
sit in that junk drawer forever
turning brittle
forgetting all about it
until the student loan people come calling
or the wife and i
are in the mood for some decent chinese food.
cops outside the apartment again
the cops are outside the apartment again
i know it’s the cops without even looking
i can hear their little radios
hear their dull voices as they question
the same loud bitch they always come here to question
having the cops come around here is boring
it’s always for the same shit
some domestic dispute on the third floor
involving a child and two immature parents
the loud bitch always gets involved and calls the cops
i think she’s the grandmother
regardless she’s always the one outside
giving the boys in blue her rote soliloquy
while those of us on the first floor are held captive
by her grating tone
by the child running free and screaming in the lobby
i wish the cops would come around here
for something else
drug crimes or dog murder
but then i’d probably have to move
because i don’t feel like living around that shit again
when you reach a certain age you search for comfort
but this is so dull and played out
it’s not even worth looking out the window
but i do anyway
hoping maybe for something else
like the father becoming irate
storming out of the building and lashing out at everyone
having to be subdued with handcuffs or a taser
while the mother screams and cries
grandma implores the cops for mercy
and the child stands there holding her doll
traumatized
but it’s just the same act
like it is most sundays
the two cops nodding and writing shit down
the loud grandmother waving her arms
and pointing toward the third floor
the child yelling in the lobby or running around outside
because cops are second nature to her
while the mother chain smokes
and the father is nowhere in sight
it’s like watching a rerun
when the cops are outside the apartment
hopefully next time they come it’ll be for something
a tad bit more scintillating
a crime of passion
armed robbery
the crazy bitch across the street
kicking in her door again
or one of the old people found dead in the basement
but i’m sure it’ll be for this circus
and i’m sure i’ll take time out of my busy schedule
to give the action a good look
unless it’s football season
then i’ll just shut the window and turn up the volume
on the television
crack a beer or open some wine
wait for them all to go the hell away.