The joints.

We walked out into the park to smoke a joint just after dark when all the children were washing up for bed. Leave it to you to make a joke or two about some fool just passing through, a fool who seems to have it out for me. His yells and screams echoed through the streets like a telephone game for the thieves and fiends around here. The point got lost along the way he flailed his arms but never did say why he was standing there so bent out of shape. And in the shadows of those trees that lined the fence with their fallen leaves we could hear the tramping of their feet, couldn't we? With the smoke still thick inside my lungs I wondered what was yet to come and I stared over your shoulder watching for it. So it came to me as quite a surprise when I saw that look in your bloodshot eyes, that need or want to run and hide that comes with a will to survive I guess. The figures wandered out to the path through the damp evening grass and I watched them cooly as they passed at last. Maybe we're just too high I thought and I shouldn't have bought such grade 'a' pot but where would we find the fun in that. With paranoia at an all time high we walked briskly through the night, almost running to get inside where it was safe.