Joints By The Thousands Poem by gregory collins

At dusk,
right before the fireflys
have mid-air collisions

and a single breath of wind
pours waves upon the leaves of grass.

I pray
that when i dream tonight,
i laugh with pleasures just out of reach

as i see myself rolling my shirt into a little pillow
like a good unknown poet.

Happy that i can see stars
anywhere on the perimeter,
as each one is a secret fire in the minds of others;

Happy that i can rest comfortably
after rolling joints by the thousands.