Libby, do you remember our baby?

Libby, do you remember our baby?
we called him Huxley
out of respect
for this stolen Peyote
we took him home
from the Zoo
in an old pram
quite the family
Me and you
And our spiky green lad
our immaculate conception
soon to be dismembered
and left out to dry
in an attempt to open
our doors of perception
we lost a whole summer
under a Moroccan smog
waiting for our child
to come of age
when finally the day came
we celebrated with Tea
from a china pot
that once belonged
to Aleister Crowley
or so you said
bracing ourselves
for an afternoon
of Psychedelia
we retired to your bed
and waited, and waited
till you decided
that what we had consumed
wasn’t Lophophora
but bog standard
Coryphantha instead
Libby, I wonder
what happened to you
after you went down
for possession
leaving me
with Food poisoning
and this
belated confession
of you and me
and what happened
to our boy Huxley.