by Jeremy Pulmano

the first time I breathed smoke my bare
back against cold wet sand I saw imagined

or dreamed the stars connecting themselves
in short rapid beams of light. it was one or the other

or the other. before my eyelids gave out
from new weight you asked why the pipe

felt so wet and yelled that I had it last you
asshole do you remember we laughed ourselves into

prayer that night. that night we laid close and said to
the sky you could unravel so many futures before us

in whatever constellation and we couldn’t tell you
which one we’d become. right now I’m looking up

and there are no stars though I can still see them.
one night we’ll go back there and decide
which prayer was answered. 

Photo by Brad Mann on Unsplash