Beneath the Marijuana Tree

Laughter is the cause of black holes. It collapses my solar plexus, squeezing me into a singularity, stampeding for the exits. Somebody stood here and did stuff once. Someday that might be me. In the meantime I'm makin' black holes, or maybe they're makin' me. Sittin' beneath the marijuana tree. When the fruit falls I'll discover gravity. In the meantime, there's all this serenity. Om. And then there are the memories, like pressed flowers, still slightly perfumed. They visit me in my waking dreams, and lift me up when I swoon. Sittin' beneath the marijuana tree. When the fruit falls I'll discover gravity. In the meantime, there's all this serenity. Om.