Shakespeare and Stein Blow Clouds (title)

A rose by any other name
would smell just as sweet,
unless it's just a plastic trinket
stuffed into a glass tube
to keep naive fools and cops
from seeing that this store
sells meth and crack pipes.

A rose is a rose is a rose
until we take turns
melting it into something else
with our cheap lighters
while the other sucks
white smoke where the rose
withered to a malformed mass.

Willie exhales a massive cloud
and giggles as Dottie takes the pipe.
He flicks the lighter and asks her,
"How many of these flowers
have we melted this way?"
She takes a big hit and shrugs,
thinking there are too many to count,
but really just one - the flower that was their youth.