Modern Day Weed

I haven’t toked in many years
And though it’s just as well,
In Amsterdam three years ago,
My nose picked up that smell.

I breathed in deep and reminisced
About my younger days,
Those weekend nights engulfed in such
A mellow stoned-out haze.

These days in New York City, though,
A scent pervades the air.
It’s weed, I’m told, but to the old stuff
It does not compare.

In fact, its noxious odor
Comes the closest to a skunk.
I wonder if imbibers
Are aware they stink, stank, stunk!

When we partook so long ago,
The ways that one could tell
Were our beatific faces
And our cravings – not our smell!