They were not close friends.Like most Saturday afternoons, Jim was at Roger’s to watch a game. When Kim tried to call his cell there was no answer. ...hen she called the house, there was no answer. Upset that she wasn’t able to get ahold of her husband, she drove the 20 minutes to their house. She knocked on the door, she looked in the windows, she rang the doorbell, no response. She could she Jim’s car on the driveway. Now curious and angry, she looked on the side of the house. She couldn’t see. Even though I know Bill will bring plenty back. He said he might get a few tabs as well. That'd be really groovy!I wrote some more poetry. I got bored writing about cats. I thought I'd write about what you feel when you've had a real good trip. Here it is:For oft, when on my bed I lieIn vacant or in fucked up mood, They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of being stoned;And then my heart with pleasure fills, And boogies with the daffodils.I managed to get 'fuck' in again, but I'm not. More

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