Straight. It never was, by stories. He had
Some type of “toothpaste” if it fit the wall.
If it wasn’t too small. We’d prop it up
On another piece of scrap and smoke it
As if it were more. When I had tried to
Split the slop we had left. Bent hanging. It
Wasn’t like weed. But they were supposed to
Expand and contract with the weather. Or
You know. Something like that. We figured it
Would work. I told him that. But that is how
We did things. We took a stab, and it showed
In our work with the itch and blister and
The biting our lips. But in the end,
It got done. Didn’t it? It did. It did.