My roommates
smoke the pot
grow the pot
love the pot
more than their mothers
Their dream
is to build an empire
with some seeds
some lights
and some aluminum tents
in the backroom
while the rest of the house
takes on a level of filth
that would rival any landfill
the pot makes them okay
with filth, though,
with the trash piling
on the kitchen floor
with the mold
climbing the bathroom walls
with the dust and mighty cobwebs
that hang overhead
like lost spirits
no no no
they smoke the pot
and smile
they are the underdogs
the trodden upon
and their dream
is a bright, burning sun
in the darkness
of their days
yes yes yes
they smoke the pot
and smile,
listening,
laughing
as I clean,
wondering
what’s the big fuss
Nathaniel Sverlow is a freelance writer of poetry and prose. He was born in 1983 in San Diego, California and has since spent most of his time hunched over a laptop randomly pressing keys. He currently resides in the Sacramento area with four cats, two roommates, and one incredibly supportive wife.
–Background & Foreground Photography by Ed Wojtaszek
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