all families have protocols, systems designed
to create illusions and obscure realities.

i remember always wanting to be in trees.
i remember when i first smoked weed.
i remember combining these.
i remember getting high in trees.

i remember
almost like a stage in a play,
the kitchen table, 
mom's elbow,
mom's knuckle,
in her mouth.

unfortunately i don't think the story of my father will ever be told.

why is everything
so hazy?