Ziggy

Bubba’s still asleep so I fire up a
breakfast doobie and polish off a
package of Lorna Doone cookies.

 

I find Ms. Hawes in the phone book
and call to tell her I’m still writing in
my journal and ask if it’s okay to send
her a poem sometime, but I’d understand

 

if it’s not, because she has over 250 students
a day if you count all of her English classes,
plus homeroom and after school detention
and,

 

she asks if I can help her out on Sunday.
I’m too stoned to come up with an excuse.

 

Now what?