ode to a pothead - a sonnet.

dearest stoner, you were my addiction,
for a moment, 'twas heavy & hot
but i can say now, with clearest conviction,
your greatest love will always be pot.
you were charming! attractive! you told a good joke!
I could've gazed in those blue eyes all summer long
but alas, the date went up in smoke,
- literally – when you pulled out that bong.
and yet still I thought maybe you were mr. right,
i mean, i really felt something: I could laugh! I could cry!
my heart was pounding madly! my chest felt tight!
i was high on love!!!.... no wait….maybe just high.

it was fun though, to sit around your scuzzy place,
giggling at the filmic antics of chevy chase.