Mamma found my name in the Sunday obituary
said it fit like her favorite vintage cutoffs.
the ones she wore before she knew she wanted to be a mom.
She told me it was ironic, since no one makes it out of this alive.
“Honey,” she chuckled in her chainsmokers rasp
“Life is the hardest drug I’ve ever tried”.
“It’s the best high and the worst low”.
As she fingered her cigarette with nicotine saturated skin she looked at me plainly
“It’s all too much to come down from. Stay high”
