Sure Darkness

We were pretty high. Kind of typical high. Always afraid of a drug story. Does it indicate a fallen being? No. In this instance just a young couple stoned. At night. In the country. Maine specifically. And it was warm. And the stars of course were unfucking real. I wonder now if I thought I was set. I wonder if I had her already cast her for the duration of my life. Being stoned put us assuredly in a real vulnerability toward each other. Free to just express whatever. Free to let our intimacy, the warmth and dazzle of the sky, the shelter of dark and certainly the electrical impulse palm to palm as we walked, free to let it escape. Free to say whatever manifested – silly to deep. I used to find a time stoned to work on my text. It was usually with the heavyweights: Shakespeare, Ibsen, Shaw, etal. Say their words in a high brain – all kinds of ideas would suddenly come to for. Once I taped my thoughts. Probably 85% was some kind of 'huh' – so fucking obvious or so fucking stupid. But maybe I would get a 15% ROT (return on toke). But the thing is I would go into the darkness and fearlessly pull whatever seemed slightly related and in tune. And it felt like I was talking to God or with Shakespeare maybe. And the connection really washed me clean. And I'm sure holding her hand that shrouded and twinkling night, I'm sure I caught a glimpse of what it would be like to give my soul to another. I'm certain I did. I believe I must have. I'm 15% sure.