the first time i did shrooms
you asked me for my favorite tea.
you used your roommate's coffee grinder,
pulsed the shrooms into dust
and didn't clean it out.
i wondered if he felt it in
his coffee the next morning.
i was laying on a rock,
looking up at the trees sway so vividly
like a moving painting when i started to cry
cause i had never and hadn't since
felt anything more majestic.
i looked over at you and
you were sitting on a branch
with your legs dangling
happy as a clam and i knew
that as much as i loved you then,
we will always be good friends.