I slip out the back with my little doobie. I've chosen a strain without stink to ensure I'm 007.
I'm in the centre of the city that makes the laws in my country, sitting out back by the big dumpster. It smells a bit, and the lateness of the season makes the bees groggy and drunk ... death so close to them ... they ignore me.
I look around for eyes. I survey all the buildings. Every window. Are any of them open? Can they see me from there?
Feeling somewhat secure, I spark up and inhale my cannabis deeply as I do one of many more visual sweeps of the area to ensure I am alone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Inside my girlfriend quickly downs a healthy shot o' courage and pours herself some more.
She takes this out to the front porch to spark up her own type of smoke.
The front porch is gorgeously reminiscent of so many old homes I've known before. The city is as alive as ever and my girlfriend, being the social butterfly that she is, waves at everyone.
It doesn't faze her as she takes her glass of 50,000 canadian deaths per year, puts it up to her sensual lips and takes a sweet sip. She even holds it close as she chit-chats a bit with her neighbor, ready to take sip two.
It also doesn't faze her when she fumbles in the pack for her smoke, finally pulling one long slender ciggy out. She plays with it a while as they finish up chatting. Then puts it to her lips and slowly lights just the tip, playing the flame on the little bits of tobacco that poke out the end. She inhales deeply, closes her eyes and blows out 40,000 Canadian deaths per year.
She sits rocking on the front porch, her two indulgences in hand, humming a song about freedom.
~ ~ ~ ~
I'm still out back, but tired of being alone and scared of the neighbor's olfactory abilities. I finish my little doobie and bury the little roach to avoid future drama. I breathe in and out slowly many times to clear my lungs.
Now to wash my hands, brush my teeth, and re-apply perfume.
So much sillyness for something that has zero canadian deaths ever.
What WAS that song she was singing ... and what about freedom?