incense wine and a clouded vision
a smoky room upstairs
filled with musty scented flora
the iguana looking wasted
in the aquarium
sticking her his tongue out
flicking imaginary flies
like me in the bean bag chair the bongos
squarely between my highs
my thighs I meant
looking gods and goddesses  
right between the passages
of musics
trying to keep pace with all the drummers in Santana
as the beat ravages the sheetrock
uninsulated
spaces in my teen space
hideaway from the drudgery
of High School
and I  never got a haircut
all down to my ***
I twist and
throw it
banging them ****
bongos
How cool was I
trying to learn the
harmonica