Smokin’ funny cigarettes to some Indian music
you know the country India
not comanche apache rumble sioux south dakota
sitar sending me to another world
of colored prints and beads and rituals
transmigration to a room with louvered doors
fans lazily circling above
eating some ice cold watermelon
off a cerulean blue plate fresh off the palette
on a hot summer night
when you sweat getting out of the shower
krishna krishna
green eye blinking fast at me
purple eye glaring at me from the side
scotch or vodka what’ll it be
ah, scotch on the rocks of Newfoundland
with a twist of snow and winter
mushroom tripping across the continent
sand in my hair, sand in my mouth
sandalwood and patchouli in my eyes
dusty trail, barefoot walking on velvet
a higher consciousness and all that
