A Nebraskan Visits Colorado
Holly Mandarich/Unsplash
I told my Ma and I told my Pa I’m tired of this here Omaha.
Denver, Denver is the show. That is where I want to go.
They got legal weed out there people say is beyond compare.
Ma and Pa said “Have you lost your mind? Stay away from it!”
I replied: “Are you kidding me? Have you ever tried that shit?
It’s fantastic. Lifts your spirits, calms your nerves, helps you
through life’s tight curves.” Ma and Pa just wrung their hands and
cried: “Oh boy of ours. We thought we raised you to know better!”
Then they really sounded the alarm. Pa said: “Sonny Boy, we only
want joy for you but at this minute we’ve got chores to do and
you’re needed on the farm. Once we get the corn crop in we
figured you’d drive to Lincoln and Husker-up with Go Big Red!
I just shook my head. Lincoln? I remember from history that he
famously debated Horace Greeley who said: “Go West young man.”
I told this to my parents and said they couldn’t restrain me with a lariat,
ending with: “Don’t worry. I’ll come back. If I don’t I’ll write you a letter.”
Walked out to Interstate Eighty on my thumb, got a ride with a fellow
cannabis pilgrim driving from Missouri. He said: “I’m headed to Denver
to smoke me some good weed” to which I replied: “Amen, Brother,
that’s what we need!” He had a joint and I had one, too; and after we
smoked ‘em up I shut my eyes for a few and I woke up in Denver town.
Man oh man, smell that mountain air! Smells like skunk buds
everywhere. Walked into my first shop. Oh my God. Now I know
what heaven looks like. I thought I was in the jungle though because
a Grape Ape got all in my business, claiming he was king of all the
cannabis sativas. He picked me up and threw me down and when
I hit the ground a White Rhino let out a blast of THC and ran over me.
When I came to I ate a banana. But it was kush. And I won’t beat around
the bush. That Banana Kush kicked me in the tush. The tangerines
were no better. They put me in a Tangerine Haze, which was a really
dreamy Neptunian phase of chilling out with little cupids flying about.
Next place featured Sour Tsunami, which was great for my anxiety
but in all honesty it rolled right over me. I held my breath and shut my
eyes as it took me down in a very deep dive but then it was like whoa –
I began seeing things I didn’t want to see. I told myself: By thunder!
Don’t let that tsunami drag you under! And when I crawled out I was
on Maui Wowie, a tropical island topped with pineapple candy and
a bouncy, creative high. I ain’t lying: I thought that was fine and dandy.
But then I went a step too far when I took a hit of Death Star, which
shot me past the moon and Mars and put me floating in space with
asteroids and shooting stars. That was a bit much for me. I’m content
to watch the galaxy through a telescope, which is what I hope to do
once I find my way out of this crystal palace where garden gnomes are
giving away ice-cream cones topped with capitate-stalked trichomes.
Seeking to get earthbound with edibles, I ate some chocolate-infused
incredibles but they added too much fuel to my trajectory once again
so I had to go for another spin around the planet. That’s when I threw
the towel in to get back to good-old, solid-old, boring-ass Nebraska.
Now I’m in Omaha smoking gack weed watching corn grow down by
the Mighty Mo. No, it’s not Denver, nor so much fun. But I do sit
in Omaha wondering how people in Colorado get anything done!