2 Worlds

High up on mountain tops
caught in the smoky haze of
vaporized narcotics
sent to you in a safety deposit box
given, bequeathed to you since birth.

In encyclopedias these words do not
exist, they live far underground,
under skin and blood and flesh.

And lips and hearts.

Laughter mixed with methanol
ethanol reaching those same
pumping arteries and fingertips.

Even when the rest of the world
lies forgotten like your shirt on my
floor, you still have that weight in
your mind, the one that reminds
that tells me kiss me.