I love the kids — I really do — and yet
they’re easier to handle after weed.
I raised mine but I managed to forget
that dealing with monotony makes need
for any substance that will alter mood
without conveying toxic consequence.
And pot is less caloric than the food
I’d use, by day, although at more expense.

When evening comes, I pour a glass of wine
and listen to minutia about games.
That’s no more boring than what friends of mine
converse about, dissecting, dropping names.
I modify the way I hear and see.
I’m still too weird to be straight company.