Yes, indeedy, for all who remember the “420” reference (which is still used, but no one remembers why because they were too stoned when they heard the story). Anyone who knows the story and DOESN’T Google it, please mention when you comment! A true story, from my time in California dubbed by my BFF John as “Amy: The Lost Years.” (ED. NOTE: If we can carry Smart Phones and get run over in traffic because we’re texting, why can’t we legalize pot? At least it would keep us in one place!)
BEST. WEED. EVER.
Al’s homegrown pot came with
a guaranteed sweet spot.
“Play ball!” A homer every
at-bat; no rain delays.
Sun never shone as brightly
nor cohorts giggled so spritely
as when Al pulled out his bag of
Mendocino County One-Hit Wonder.
Sage green and ruinously resinous,
it rendered rolling practically impossible.
So smooth on the intake – and
zero-to-sixty in seconds flat.
One joint could turn a mob
of tired, cranky, post-shift waiters into
drooling zombies in search of Cheetos.
Al went off the radar years ago,
but the memory,
the melody lingers on.
A cloud of laughter, profuse swearing,
groan-worthy punning, sexual innuendo,
and whispered promises forgotten by morning…
All sent up years ago as a scented offering
to Bacchus (who probably got a contact high).
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Wherever you are, Al, you are missed. Not just for your weed, either.
Sharp Little Pencil 
poetcolette
hee hee
i know that story — the after school meetin’ time…
i can’t say i have a dissenting opinion of this gnarly poem of yours.
Good stuff, man!
Sharp Little Pencil
Not expecting a lot of dissent on this one, ha ha ha. Thanks, Colette! A
oncealibrarian
I had to Google it – if the origin is to be believed 420 was after my time! I was coming round again in 1971.
Sharp Little Pencil
Don’t know when it originated, around ’71 I think, in California (naturally). By the time I was into the SoCal cultural scene, it was the late 70s. Too bad the Escovar cartel had to bring cocaine onto the scene… the whole city changed from mellow to nownownownow and greediness toppled the sweet, sharing culture of the old buzz… Amy
Laurie Kolp
haha… love the waiter searching for Cheetos!
Sharp Little Pencil
You could tell who was high by the orange ring around their lips, ha ha ha. Thanks, Laurie! Peace, man, peace… Amy
Joseph Harker
I love how open and humorous you are about these things. You should send it in to High Times. 🙂
Sharp Little Pencil
Now THAT is a great publication idea, Joseph, I love it! Thanks, and always great to see you on the blog… will pop over to you. Still don’t have the cojones to submit to Curio, but I’m gearing up… the poets are way out of my league, I think. Peace, Amy
Sherry Blue Sky
“Bacchus probably got a contact high”…hee hee.
Sharp Little Pencil
Couldn’t resist. The god of all overconsumption and partying, right? wink. Amy
coalblack
the herb never did a thing for me. i tried it a couple of times to please my best friend in high school, but all it ever did was burn my throat.
Sharp Little Pencil
Too bad you didn’t know us in SoCal. You might have gotten a better quality of product! (snark, snark) Just as well. I did waste a lot of time… but it was fun. Amy
Renee Espriu
Once was enough for me but I’m sure for many…including you, my dear friend, the memories are good ones. 🙂
Sharp Little Pencil
Yep, it was fine until I “escalated” into other things, which was a mistake. Pablo Escovar’s cocaine cartel really managed to ruin the whole scene, too… Thanks, Renee! Amy
zongrik
drug culture poetry
Sharp Little Pencil
Pug dulture coetry, huh? Whah? Yma
Roger Green
I know what 420 is, but it was long past the day that I smoked pot, if I ever smoked pot, and I’m not saying I did smoke pot, and anyway, if I did smoke pot, the statute of limitations would have kicked in, if I had smoked pot, which I never said I did smoke pot.
Sharp Little Pencil
This is one of the better disclaimers. Kind of like the end title credits for Three and a Half Men!! Coming your way, Amy
charlesmashburn
Dang, Amy! I think I was there!?!? Sounds familiar any way. I never smoked much pot, ’cause I was a lightweight; one hit of any kind would put me to sleep. My favorite though was “giggle” pot. I can remember laughing til I hurt; then dozing off.
DOH!
Perfect stoner poem! You nailed it!
My favorite stoner story: Saturday afternoon, messed up, baseball on the TV; we all decided to take a road trip. Left one guy passed out, sitting on the couch. When we came back in, loud and laughing, he sat up, looking as startled as a stoned guy can look, and said, “snort, hack, errr… who turnt off the teevee?”
Ya had to be there…
Sharp Little Pencil
Ha! Man after my own heart! Don’t you love going back to those times, and aren’t you glad we’re over them?
“Who turnt off the teevee?” And I’ll bet wherever you are, he sounded like Jeff Spiccoli from “Fast Times.” Toooo funny. Love me a belly laugh, so thanks, and peace, Amy