Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
May 11, 2026

High

"...drank wine felt divine..."

High

I smoked dope
skipped rope
drank wine
felt divine
blew my mind
was left behind
did time
for my crime
in my prime
met Sarah sublime
bedded and wedded
sired Kendall and Wendell
our joy and pride
at six and ten, they died
we were beyond tears
past fears
we injected dope
skipped the rope
that made the noose
that cut us loose
with dry eyes
under blue skies
our goodbye highs







More by Frederick Foote → More poetry → Full issue →
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