The brief escape of multicolored soap foaming on the windshield, $20 fancy wash beating out the last film you saw in theaters. Leaned back, it all feels cooler with the show swishing in jetted tides. The dribbles runs slick, and in the watery chemicals, just for a second, you think you see a woman dancing.
So, you put out the joint on your shoe, swearing you’d grow your own weed from here on out.
