What, where is the poetry

it is 4:20, on 4-20-2020,

my wife walks in right after I enter an early evening
re-read to make it seem

poetically planned to hatmonize perfectly

she says, if we can get to El Cajon by 4:20,

I think perfect,
she wants me to do the impossible, again

but then I remember spring ahead that we voted
to stop doing but they did,

I must not have, sprung ahead, for a poetic moment up there,

if we can get to El Cajon by 4:20,

they can **** our dog. Oh...

and a whole long story began, which is why

after all is said and done, 4-20-2020 is a global holiday.