We passed the precious stone
at lunch hour,
great buds all of us,
young ******* cowboys
flipping birds to those
authority figures in blue,
we called them the men.

We knew we had the power,
lizard kings
with strong lungs,
filled with
the burning stick.

They called us
real quick studies,
banging heads
& knocking boots
of a few cute ones.

The beautiful  peace pipe
made its rounds
& we inhaled deeply
to find
the true meaning of life
as we knew it.

Whiskey & tequila
on the rocks
were our
second & third choices,
that made us cocksure,
but the ****** made us mad,
just like those eggs
seen on the tellie
frying in a cast iron pan.

Thick magical-smoke
uncoiled around us
like cobras
& with their venom
coursing through our veins,
we cruised across
glimmering shades of azure
in the noonday sun,
jamming to Lizzy,
crooning loud
about
our jailbreak.