Innocence is dangerous and I want to be on the verge of death.

Back when pleated skirts and bland communion bread troubled me.

I wish I minded the smell of cigarettes and marijuana.

Before the holy smoke on television turned evil.

Before a popping balloon made children jump.

Before I begged bridges of death to be burned.

Before I saw the warning of Ginsberg’s “America”.

Before a consequence could be death.

So when I took a bite from the world,

Blood stained my palms.

I washed my hands from sin and thought:

I wish I minded the smell of cigarettes and marijuana.