My Cousin Frank once Came to spend a weekend With the family at a state park, He came with bongs And a habitual prestige of *** smoking.
He would light a **** In hiding but would Not blot out the smell As a show for his pride As a smoker.
I was a here and there Kinda smoker, couldn't roll To save my life or the last Of the bag, but amidst the late Night drinking in the gallery Of faces round the fire, Came my time to take a few hits.
( I began a soliloquy of morbidly humorous Topics which no one thought was funny) As midnight hour came, Cousin Frank Came to the unpopular guy who Couldn't handle his smoke. He lit another and began A soliloquy of his own, Rather I think I just spaced out.
He went to bed and I stayed Wondering about apples and grapes, In the starlit terrace of the infinite Possibility of fruits, Thankful Frank had brought Such philosophical ****.