I hand her, her oh-so-adorably elephant-shaped bowl that I proudly filled with the finest plant matter I've tasted this side of the Mason-Dixon Line that I had been saving for weeks for this very moment. She, true to form turns it back to me. "You know I like it better when you have greens, baby." What a girl. I bring the glass trunk to my lips and with a sigh of relief inhale the exonerating smoke. "If you only knew how long I've waited for this" I think to myself. See I loved smoking with her. I remember the night I ate those mushrooms and told her that she looked like a portrait. She didn't know what I meant that night, but by the way she looked into my eyes, I knew that somewhere in her god-self she had to have understood. Did she understand tonight? Did she understand that the months of hiding this glorious feeling into the short moments when she was away were eating me up inside. That I just wanted to her to be there with me every time. Instead, she calmly watched as I breathe in, look at her and crook a smile. "He's been so patient" I'm sure she thought. "I've missed you" is what I thought. I handed her the elephant and she carried on the ritual. Was it a ritual to her? Or was she just getting high? We continued to pass back and forth, playfully holding in the unforgiving choke of the smoke for as long as we could, bursting into laughter at our frivolous games. Did she know that I wasn't just getting high? Could she possibly understand what it really meant to me? I close my eyes and wonder. What does this mean to her? Will she ever understand? Has she ever seen life peel away from itself? Has she seen the word 'NYKDLN' painted in neon waves through her mind's eye? Has she ever seen the faces that laugh at us that are hidden among everything we see? Has she felt fear or faced death? Has she ever spoke without using words and realized the meaning of man? Has she ever gotten the chance to feel the power that flows through every last one of us. That is every last one of us. Has she ever really lived? Is she alive? Does she understand? I open my eyes and see her perfect thin-lipped smile. God I love her so much, but fuck, what have I done to my mind. The places I've been and things I've seen have made me a concept, no longer a man. And how can one love a concept? Furthermore, how can a concept possibly love? I smile back. "I wanna talk to you about the mind" I said. "There's so much I think about, and never explain. So many questions, so many thoughts. I just want to talk." Afraid that these moments of shared higher-consciousness were fleeting I stuck my neck out and took the chance. She smirked at me as she picked up her Super Nintendo controller. We had been stuck on that damn factory level for months. Her eyes squinted in that way that really fires me up inside. She responded. "Baby, don't be stupid."