Smoking With The Sisters

I smoked pot with the nuns, before the day begun, 

with jam toast and tea, you know, just for fun.

It was hard work being the wives of god

And they needed something to take them away a lot.

We’d sit in the garden, on the terrace by the pond

Sister Immaculata would be the first on hand

Sister Immaculata, with her two bad knees,

It would always be medicinal, roll away she’d say.

So keen was she, she’d be encouraging me 

to “roll up a good one,” as she liked to say,

before Sister Juanita and Sister Jenny-Beth

came downstairs to join us for tea.

We’d sit in a circle, under the Golden Elm

Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata and me,

Twitching fingers, passing the dubee expertly

until the very last toke was smoked greedily.

And then we would laugh, oh, how we’d laugh

Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata and me,

Immaculata would roar, Juanita and Jenny-Beth tee hee

As the tears in our eyes fell into our tea.

“Walked on water!” Juanita slapped her knee.

“Fed thousands with one fish,” Jenny-Beth giggled. “He he.”

“Turn water into wine,” Immaculata laughed out loud.

“Spat in some blokes eye,” I’d say, as I pass the joint along.

They’d look at me, Juanita, Jenny-Beth, Immaculata, all three,

curious looks spread across their faces, I could see.

Immaculata bending her knee, and looking away.

Jenny-Beth clasping her hands, Juanita gazing at me.

Then we’d get back to the business of the day

Saving lives, saving souls, making rolls, making tea

Juanita, Jenny-Beth and Immaculata, and me,

I’d go for a nap, my head spinning steadily.