Blow on the Dash

As my Dad and I stumbled            
Out of the neighborhood bar,            
I saw a little bag in his hand--          
Images of eight balls all over it.            
I could see the tempting white inside.            
I wanted it more than I wanted love.            
I wanted it more than a functional family.            
After a few minutes of searching,            
We found his haunting black truck.            
I told him, “Break it out, I know you got it.”              
“Get in the fucking truck man” he responded.            
We got in and within minutes his dashboard turned              
Into a keyboard covered with uncut rocky long lines.            
I snorted and sniffed as he watched--carelessly.            
He told me, “Just be smart with this stuff--              
Blow is no joke.” I didn't respond, I just rolled my            
Eyes as his jaded words ran through my mind.                 
Then as the once joyfully full bag came to an end,             
We just sat there for a few moments,smoking,              
Bonding the only way we knew how to--High.