Northumberland. What place is that. Where the smoke from the garbage dump makes clouds on its peaks.
Peaks and sheep, sheep on it’s peaks, waiting for the evening when they shall return.
But the Eagle glides straight down, the horizontal kind of straight, like a straight beep-; beeps, lots of them,
like hyphens, blue hyphens cutting through the sky.
Then she pushes her wings down, down the mountains. Eagles in this part of the world.
Eagles doing what they do, on every part of this state.
The hills down the hills, where good charas costs rs 600 per tola. No not weed, not the chemicals you buy from behind the Gurudwara. Nah, this one isn’t an addiction, isn’t really an aberration that dulls your mind.
This is a rare recreation, only smoked while here. Not an excuse to slave away the day to the dull throbbing smoke devoid of my…
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