Mellow Gorillas Who gave the gorilla a doobie? Who showed him how to inhale and hold the warm smoke in his lungs? Hear the slow sigh through his magnificent nostrils as the cooled grey is released? His mate sniffs him trying for a contact high. Wide-eyed, wild-eyed, their love-filled eyes, rare as four eclipsed suns at a spring noon. They are laughing. They clasp each other chest to familiar chest. Like comets taking new orbits as they enter a deeper space, they find each other in new ways. New gravities pull them. Is it all illusion? Some herbal disorientation? Some celestial prank? Just some dumb weed burning brightly? In its burning, weed frees these lovers. For a moment, theirs is the cosmos. Friends, who try to live a purer life, please don't judge this moment of escape. Love, like meteors, falls in many shapes. Paul Jones has published poetry in many journals including Poetry, River Heron Review, Red Fez, Broadkill Review as well as in cookbooks, in tr...
Like the title says.