The Pot Plant

She's my age,
And she's dying.
Her sister says she needs,
"Forty leaves a day,
But fresh."
Neither of us knows the growing cycle,
Of the magic plant.
We never bothered with that shit when we were young.
They are buying seeds,
Wrapped in an American magazine,
Off the internet.

I said I would phone a friend.
I did.
Our conversation was shrouded in inference.
"  A serious pharmaceutical matter,
Requiring fresh herbaceous material,
Perhaps seedlings rather than seed.
Require assistance with cultivation, care and maximising yield,
Longevity of the plant."
Perhaps not such a big issue.

He'll catch me Thursday.