Gluing back together a bong
is a challenge that may not be worth it.
This endeavor’s cost is opportunity.
Time I could spend smoking elsehow.
If I commit to piece together
my only bong in the past two years,
it is an act of sentimentality.
I twist up a joint and I get to work.
What breaks my heart
is I had just bought an ash catcher.
I tipped the bong before I could insert it.
I look at it. The ash catcher.
Its glass on glass connector
hovering naked some inches above
where it stands an anxious virgin
begging to fulfill its destiny.
I puff on my joint.
I don’t glance at the receipt
but acknowledge it is inside my wallet.
I look at the ash catcher once more.
I Examine the break. It is on the female.
Concave pieces of the stem holder.
This is the most critical landmark
in the bong’s native anatomy.
The pieces are small.
One is so small it had went missing
in the shatter, and is gone forever.
I visualize the repair.
All matches up fine but one missing speck.
The speck’s existence is a capital issue,
for that with it, the bong does not suck.
I relight my joint and ponder the cost.
The speck must be sealed.