referenced by her brother-in-law
she calls me, leaves an awkward
voice message, walking around
what she wants or needs
I listen already somewhat amused
I deal in edible marijuana
not much, enough for friends
enough to take a little off the top
to pay for my own indulgence
because fuck it, sometimes,
no, all the time, this world is too much
we need the edge off
she is in her late fifties, I think
her husband has cancer
she like me in an untenable space
she’s never done a drug deal
I hate thinking of myself
as a drug dealer
I buy cookies from cancer patients
I sell cookies to people with anxiety
chronic pain, cancer or to people
who just want to have a good time
marijuana helps these things
marijuana should be legal
we should all be able to walk into a dispensary
pick up what we need, not through
some underground economy
fuck you America, for making us criminals
a friend of mine died of cancer last year
the pain killers were too much
until the pain got too bad
then there was no choice but painkillers
until that point though
I showed him how to roll joints
how to pack a bong
how to smoke
‘cause these aren’t cigarettes
she’s much the same, nervous as she talks
she says can I say cookies, will alarm bells
rings, will I be arrested immediately
I start to laugh, laugh through the rest
of the conversation, she says
this was something you didn’t
do in my day, the fear of jail was too much
I tell her it’s been decriminalized in the city
even as this archaic government
tries its best now to double down
on what has been proven to be
a far less dangerous drug
than alcohol, cigarettes or caffeine
we set up a meeting, she asks
should I wear I disguise, I could
fedora, I could mustache
I could fake glasses
I say there’s no need
we don’t want to draw attention
we want to make this fast and painless
like the relief her husband will hopefully get
she calls back to change the meeting
I’m going to her house now
she tells me the address
she tells me to look for the house
wearing a fedora and mustache
--Jason Baldinger
she calls me, leaves an awkward
voice message, walking around
what she wants or needs
I listen already somewhat amused
I deal in edible marijuana
not much, enough for friends
enough to take a little off the top
to pay for my own indulgence
because fuck it, sometimes,
no, all the time, this world is too much
we need the edge off
she is in her late fifties, I think
her husband has cancer
she like me in an untenable space
she’s never done a drug deal
I hate thinking of myself
as a drug dealer
I buy cookies from cancer patients
I sell cookies to people with anxiety
chronic pain, cancer or to people
who just want to have a good time
marijuana helps these things
marijuana should be legal
we should all be able to walk into a dispensary
pick up what we need, not through
some underground economy
fuck you America, for making us criminals
a friend of mine died of cancer last year
the pain killers were too much
until the pain got too bad
then there was no choice but painkillers
until that point though
I showed him how to roll joints
how to pack a bong
how to smoke
‘cause these aren’t cigarettes
she’s much the same, nervous as she talks
she says can I say cookies, will alarm bells
rings, will I be arrested immediately
I start to laugh, laugh through the rest
of the conversation, she says
this was something you didn’t
do in my day, the fear of jail was too much
I tell her it’s been decriminalized in the city
even as this archaic government
tries its best now to double down
on what has been proven to be
a far less dangerous drug
than alcohol, cigarettes or caffeine
we set up a meeting, she asks
should I wear I disguise, I could
fedora, I could mustache
I could fake glasses
I say there’s no need
we don’t want to draw attention
we want to make this fast and painless
like the relief her husband will hopefully get
she calls back to change the meeting
I’m going to her house now
she tells me the address
she tells me to look for the house
wearing a fedora and mustache
--Jason Baldinger
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