Bobby told me about this guy he knew who's now married but when he knew him he was living in a water tower and this guy he used to smoke crack with let him live there and so he moved into this converted-water-tower-studio up Soda Springs Road and him and this guy and some other people would smoke crack together.
Bobby said this guy would climb up the ladder and crawl through his floor and find himself in this giant cylinder with riveted walls and echos.
There were no windows, no corners.
Bobby said something about this guy's record collection and somewhere in there the words "mellow tone in" were strung together and I remember laughing and Bobby laughed along just because he liked that he had made me laugh.
And we let the melatonin out and breathed the scotch broom in and I tasted the pine needles and the blackberry leaves and when the smoke had left I could also taste dandelions and madrone and my throat felt sore and everything smelt like mold and burnt sage. But stars reached out towards each other above us and the refracted light from my fucked up vision connected the dots and I really saw Orion's belt, not as projected upon the sky by me or someone else, but by the stars themselves, reaching for each other with spider thread.
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