Drunk dreams

Together, running, we jump the queue behind
A small blonde girl.
A black cap turned backwards.
White adidas trainers.

Smoke?
He takes it from her without hesitation
A deep puff, puncturing a small light in the air
Like a torch it won’t go out.

Mate, this is herbs.
He shoves the whole thing, still lit,
On the tip of his tongue vertical as a lighthouse,
Munching like a cow.

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