Aged people are nothing but grace to me. I watch them in the park and the bars
baptized by the glow of their years.
Once I have grown too weary to sit down and enjoy their stories,
reduce my body to ash.
I don’t want to live anymore if the simple things fail to intrigue me- the smell of the new air in a new place, the falling in love with a total stranger for brief seconds,
the smile of a bald boy named Killy
wearing a shirt that says “fuck cancer.”
These things are the true drinks,
the true drugs.
The things we must worship.