I ate mushrooms last night
I wouldn't recommend it
because being alone in your hair, trying to keep your face in the sun
or the table candles
while something so frivolous happens behind your warm eyes
like a buddha
like a shiva
like a bunch of women on camels with eyes in the centers of their faces
and pyramids
or million-eyed aliens depantsing themselves in a fractal,
and all you're trying to do is recognize where you are inside
or maybe I wanted to "open my mind"
but then I realized my mind is wider than the sky,
that you could lay your head athwart my hips & plunge your tongue into my barestript heart
while I read leaves of grass
and I didn't trust anything, not the lemons & bananas on the countertop, or the cigarette
or even the tea
and especially not the hippies who, and this is the only thing I wrote down, "with their fancy drugs try to distract you... reminding you of things like Egypt"
so my mind tunneled and
and then I thought I would write a poem,
so I laid my head on my book
and I ruined the pages with watercolor tears
and when Nickey came home I told her I had written
the most beautiful poem in the world
with just my tears
and I thought that was pretty hilarious, that I'm pretty good
and I remembered that drugs can try
but I'm not a festival-goer
and I won't be feather'd
and wing'd
and glitter'd
and halo'd
and bindi'd
or distracted
that it's okay to give up sometimes, just so long as I don't have to
