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I think of you as the first draw
from a cigarette wish-well,
and the dizzy well being
of its so-so beckonings—

i became addicted,

remaining perilously close to your
edge with a potential for falling in
while reaching for another taste
as the cravings intensified.

But the euphoria diminished;

when i realized (finally) that you
were not my springwater, nor the
bucket of a dreamwell, nary even
the spool that held the rope—

you were merely a shimmer
of water under a bridge
that was too good
to be true.

Someday i will pause
over your delicious
flow once more,

to remember a taste
necessitating years
to drift downstream...


s jones
Dec 2020


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