Self Dialogue

It's five to four. For an hour I've been walking the street. I'm a kid, 17. Just a couple of months till I'm 19. Oops, I mean 18. This dope makes me funny in the head...smoked in my parents basement, with the windows open, of course. A cold wind made a cross breeze. My mom won't get home till six. She won't smell the reefer smoke. Some charity club she goes to every Tuesday. My dad the mechanic drinks beer at the bar with his friends after work. Talk about bald spots and beer bellies. Oh man, did I close the windows? Shit. I don't know. When I smoke alone I make stupid mistakes. It'll be freezing down there. May freeze the pipes in the toilet. Fuck. Sometimes this gettin' high makes you worry. Tomorrow I got an English exam. Reading that Romeo and Juliette. Boring Shakespeare shit. If I flunk my folks will kill me. Mellow, mellow dope. It ain't working. Too much self dialogue. Walking by my friend Tony's house. Her sister got me willing and hot up to her parent's room. But just as fast she changed her mind and rolled me out of bed. Nearly cracked my lower spine. Thought she liked funny guys. I know she likes weed. Whew. Smoking every day and watching cartoons on TV. Bugs Bunny is hip. Daa..D'ats all Folks. Freakin' self-dialogue in my head. Talkin' to me about Toons. I got the munchies. Maybe I'll go back to my friend Tony's. See if he's got some Cheetos and onion dip. Except his sister creeps me out now. Her mother looks at me angry. These adults, including my own mom, think I have no direction. Nah, nah...I got dope and a creating mind. And a plan when I turn 19. Go to L.A. with a van filled with dope. Write some toons. Just write from the dialogue  inside my head...there's an open window and a cross-breeze. Smoke shrouded in a dream. A laughing rabbit, and a cranky duck...waiting for a wonderful tune. Five to four. Time to go home.