driving home i’m called to the void
by an oncoming truck
and i almost answer until it’s shaken loose
by the wind
the moment fades fast as it’s headlights
i never slow down
the broken yellow line like a dial tone
humming by
...
i dedicate my lucky streak to the cigarette;
one flipped in 20, saved for last
fed, in the seven minutes of fortune
to desire, but that moment is gone forever
love never goes unpunished;
so inspired in tobacco the stomach
aches and turns over, delivering
the fire of its contents out its back door
we both see exiting as a return
to one place or another, one state or the next,
the smoke and i; turning energy to waste,
are sucked through the plumbing or the open window
and though, shivering in the wind of the car,
i endure, pushing my seven minutes of luck
as long as it will stretch
i try to remember how to breathe because so often i forget