Did I Say That Already?

I don’t know how to talk about drug use without sounding cliché

I don’t know when the time is

or where to find the place

I was high when my dad called

“just calling to hear your voice,

love you, miss you

hope everything is okay”

Dad always wanted

for me to be good

When I was fifteen

my friends and I

would smoke weed

and steal candy

from royal farms

It wasn’t good

but it was love

We loved each other

so much

On saint patricks day

a boy stuck a hand

up my floral,

green,

skirt

and ruined

everything

I still want

to be good for dad

but being good for dad

doesn’t get me high

and waking up sober

feels like

lying on

march 18th’s

dewy grass

all over again.