Somehow I had forgotten to take my golf spikes off, and I sounded like a tap dancer as I walked the tile floors of the supermarket collecting crunchy things and beer to wash them down, and you just thought it was the funniest thing in the world, but all I could think was There’s no way nobody doesn’t know how stoned I am. And we ate the noxious caps and stems, gray to purple-green, and your wife came home from work and gave us the Oh, you boys treatment even though I knew she was really upset that we didn’t wait for her. We wound up beside the creek in Freedom Park talking about so many things that would fix the world, but the only conversations I can recall were the ones that the wind had with the limbs and the leaves and that the rocks and water had in the bed of the creek. I saw so much into the whole nature of things that night, and I can recall seeing how the moon played on the atoms of the air. Sometimes the life of the mind recedes to enjoyment and comfort of just being a part of the whole. Sometimes the two become one.