Citrus Cigarettes

Few times before have I delved such depths,

Than with a citrus cigarette.

The dry air was filled with Mandarin smoke,

I wasn’t even surprised when the Dandelion spoke.

The rainman and I traded faces,

The sun was a Clementine,

But in all the wrong places.

Sing it again, Flower Child,

of our fruity fallacy,

as we slip back in the garden

of citrus dreams.