Once we sparked up on planes, playgrounds.
We smoked on the john. On the job. Even as we drove
There was a risk we took, a second of blind
Chance at the wheel to catch the light in one move.
(from The Water Stealer, published by Faber & Faber)
A great smoking poem.
The last time I won anything for poetry was in 1974, when I won the Milton prize at school. Sounds very impressive, but the truth is my poem was the only entry. Here's a picture of my certificate. The poem is called 'Boys Smoking Weed in the Cemetery', and as soon as I hear that I may I shall post it here for the bigger world's delectation.