She had nothing
but a joint in her hand;
lighter, keys, loose change
and a flower in her hair
I lit her joint,
blocked the breeze
as I saw the spark in her eyes
Fuck it, Let’s go
to the East Bay and
leave all the bullshit
She started the car,
turned on Pink Floyd
Obscured by Clouds,
Destination Berkeley
I toked and choked,
Run with the Hunted
lick the frost of the dream
I watched my day
unfold in mysterious ways
and followed in a blissful trance
Until she had to pee
we turned down a dead end road,
shallow creek, dead tree,
and lonely hills
I turned away,
sparked a joint,
burnt my fingertips
thinking of the days ahead
I have the scars to prove
that bliss starts
with a spark in her eyes