May 2, 2011
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the ice crunches between my teeth
i smile
move my glasssideways
and ask for moresame color
golden brown huetake it
leave it
which everexhale smoke
simple cigarette
borrowedas i gave mine up
long ago now
but miss them just the samethe smell
the tasteand they go so well with the writer
the written
the versethoughtful
yet poignant
and always ending
too sooneven when i’m searching
for another light
another drinkand another sentence
to finish whatever it isi’m still trying to say.
Comments (13)
well done yet again. i miss smoking–the pacing with it, as i tried to think of words and ideas and emotions.
*purrrr*
This was fantastic; I can relate very well.
Good piece.
I will always love your poetry. I can’t imagine you writing something I don’t enjoy.
This is really… relaxing. I don’t know if that sounds odd or not, but it’s how this one made me feel. But it’s very well written. Excellent work, my friend
I don’t like cigarettes but enjoy this very much as if I were a retired smoker.
i love cigarettes. for the self-destructive, yet thoughtful intellect.
@hilaw - me too. smoking was so much fun. sigh.
@MyHomeIsWriting - ahhhhthanks jen.
@Ravenira - not at all it makes perfect sense. it was meant to feel mellow and reminiscent. and thanks for coming by.
@awoolham - which i am. lol. retired—sigh. i miss it.
great piece. real and down to earth. it reminds me of Peter Falk describing to an angel he couldn’t see how a cup of coffee in the morning is made more delicious by a cigarette in the Wim Wenders movie “Wings of Desire”.