This poem was originally published on 7 March 2017.

Sweet but it stings,
Like cologne in the eye.
We kept it in bottles,
And uncorked them after dark.

They called it moonshine. 
We called it dawn.
So narcs cleared the streets, 
But could not snuff the spark.

They declared prohibition 
On our prescribed thoughts.
Pollution, they reckoned,
In our bloodstreams.

They said rehab,
Yet our minds were sober.
Our bodies awake,
But theirs lay in marred dreams.

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