I prefer to smoke alone
blow away the jabbering,
the drone of the fan
mixing together, making
my knees jump.
outside by myself
with no need to say
inconsequential things or
retell a story once over.
the quiet hugs on like a sweater
or a hand knit blanket
the stars' vacant stares
speak of car crashes
of heads and windows
of hospital elevators
the wind brings along with it
an office bedroom
and 400 miles from home
if that is what I can call
what's left of my life there
then the smoke stays in my hair
to repel anyone trying to get
close