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Jan 2017
as kids we used to go out in
the cold holding pretzels
between our fingers and pretend
our frozen breath was smoke

(funny how
kids grow up)

we rang in this new year
with a half gallon of last
year's apple cider just turnt
enough to bite and fizz

half glasses of
questionable mango juice
mixed with a stranger's
thick cream ***

and a full season of
mash but after
this year i know
suicide is not painless

(it burns and stings
chokes and screams
leaves friends
crying at five a.m.)

stood on some kitchen steps
cat-scratched hands red
from hot dishwater and icy air
stomping cold feet

(the plan is to get me addicted
for just a couple years while you
*** them off me until i prove
i'm strong enough to quit)

and you held out the zippo
lighter you got for christmas
i handed you a cigarette
and you held it between your
fingers and tapped away the
ashes like richard dawson would

(there's something poetic about
historical self destruction)

it burned my lungs
enough that i coughed
but then again it
felt right

like we had been
practicing for this
new year all our lives.
Copyright 1/9/16 by B. E. McComb
happy new year
b e mccomb
Written by
b e mccomb  22/F/finally home
(22/F/finally home)   
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