walking home
drunk

in our bellies
and our lungs
lie my vices
we roll the
dice is this
strange heaven
or the bottom
-
maybe below?

walking home
stumble

through the
streets of
Charlottetown
with a joint
that has
no filter
in the cold air
I drown

walking home
high

a shooting star
passed us by
and you ask
what's a wish
and I say
not a thing-

cause your
open arms
and your
candid laugh
are all I'll ever need.