I take a drag of my cigarette
It burn’s meteor red
The inky smoke washes my mouth
I exhale the cloud into the cloudless sky
“You need to stop smoking”
“I have”
“What are you doing now?”
“This is my last one”
She rolls her eyes and spits
“You need to stop spitting”
“I can have a bad habit”
“But it’s illegal, smoking isn’t”
“What? Spitting isn’t illegal”
“Unfortunately it is, I may just have to perform a citizen’s arrest”
As I laugh, she mumbles something
“What was that my love?”
“I said you’re a *******”
I blow out another cloud, and smile
My foot ends the last bit of angry red
“There, I quit”
She spits

"You came," her voice floated in the white
"Of course I came," I knew she was behind me
But I couldn't turn, only feel her hair touching my back
"It's a good sign." Her voice was a million echoing silver bells
"I guess I've started to realize..."
Her fingertips brushed my palm, light as wind.
"I have realized that it wasn't my fault"
"I told you it was a good sign"
In the corner of my eye, I saw strands of her hair, fluttering
"I miss you." I wanted see her, see her smile, white teeth and dimple
"I miss you too," her silver bell voice rung out sadly
"I can never forgive myself," my voice shook, my eyes burned
"Don't say that, it's not true"
Flowers underneath us were red, yellow and sky blue
"I should have been there, I should have always been with you"
My every atom ached for her, to turn and see her
I could remember the smell of waking up beside her
Starting my day with a wonder by my side
"Forgive yourself please, for me"
A flower was slipped into my hand, it was yellow
I turned and I saw her, she wore the garb of an angel
She smiled before she disappeared
Leaving me crying in the red, yellow and sky blue.

There are two tonight-
two ambulances,
red lights illuminating the dark neighborhood
as they make their weekly trip to the old folks home
at the end of the street.
This could be the end of eight decades for someone
for a neighbor of mine.
Could be one less crazy old woman
walking down the street shouting at the neighborhood dogs
(and mailboxes).
The lights fade from view as they cross 9th.
A tear falls to my desk
as I wonder
"who was that?
what ended tonight?"
and as I lay down and roll over to stare at the wall
I imagine who they could have been.

I wonder if her lips trembled when she was told.
Did tears run down her face or was she just silent?
My life was ended before I got to see her.
Leaving was the hardest thing to do.
Hadn’t it been our birthday that day?
I was on my way to see her.
The first year passed and I wondered if she was okay.
I bet she walked around with a smile.
She was always stronger than me.
When I left I didn’t know if she’d miss me.
I was a broken person, always leaning on her.
She was always there for me when I needed comfort.
In the second year, did she stop coming to my grave?
When I left, did she finally break?
I wanted to watch over her and keep her safe.
Does she hate our birthday now?
I would if things had been the other way around.
I would not be able to celebrate.
Three years pass and I wonder if she’d forgotten my face.
I stopped counting the days long ago but I know she still does.
I wish I could say sorry because I didn’t want to leave.
Three more minutes and my life may not have gone away.
The car would of gone by and the road would have been clear.
When four years pass will she be able to talk about me again?
Will a smile cross her face when she thinks of me?
When I left, I didn’t think it’d be this way.
Does she think I meant to leave?

Back in the 1950s
when you were a kid
your old man sat beside you
in the cinema

smoking
the smoke rising
his eyes glued
to the big screen

taking in
the leading lady
of the film
her assets

the way she moved
you sat there
scrutinizing
the leading man

to see how quick he was
on the draw
how fast he was
with the 6 shooters

and which side
of his body
his carried the gun
or guns

how he wore his hat
hoping he’d not waste
too much time
kissing the dame

when there was shooting to be done
and bad guys to get
and his horse to ride
into the big screen sunset

and he sat there smiling
at the dame
the leading actress
smoke lingering

you digging
into the small tub
of ice-cream
he’d brought you

from the salesgirl
with the lit up tray
( who no doubt
hoped to be

a big screen actress
herself some day)
and staying there
beside him

right through
the cartoons
and the other feature  
until he turned to you

and said
let’s go
this is where
we came in

and he got up
from his seat
and you followed
taking a last glimpse

of the screen
the gunfire
the flashes of light
you and your old man

out of the cinema
into the dark night.

for your thoughts
for your wishes
for our distance
for your kisses
for clichés
for the comfort
for 365 days
for many more
for silly honesty
for seasons slipping by
a dozen, bright red roses
for a love that keeps us
high

cough
like you could evict
the bitter thickness
of failure from your lungs
purge the fallacies you're pounded with
the shame
of cheap whiskey
and the voicemails you've saved
just to remind yourself
that you ruined things
punishment
because it feels righteous
when it comes from within
cough
and when your lungs settle
the heaviness remains
so take another desperate drag
because perhaps
this will finally be your last

Stop the traffic, halt the cars!
Close the local schools and bars!
Hush your children, lower your head!
Don't you know that he is Dead?

Dim the Sun! Silence the birds!
Share with them these tragic words!

He's Dead! He's Dead! He's passed away! God took his soul this very day!

Draw the curtains, stay inside!
Don't come out, your time to bide!
The whole wide world is now in mourning,
Tell the sun, delay the dawning!

Life can never be the same,
From smiles and laughing, we now refrain.  
The Undertaker's here to take
The only man who could truly bake.

He's Dead! he's Dead! He's passed away! God took his soul this very day!

The women wept, the children scared,
the men just held their heads and stared.  
The dogs lay quiet, the horses still,
as though they knew of poor Ole Bill.

The Township lost it's heart that day and now that he was dead,
the people walked around a-daze,
their guts a-fill with dread...

... their Baker was forever gone and with him, all the bread.

I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.