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I sat there
at the kitchen table,
a quiet man
watching my wife’s
inescapable haunches
taunting me
through the blue plume of smoke
that climbed out of the ashtray
and up the ladders of oxygen
reaching for the nicotine ceiling
as she cooked breakfast
on medium heat
the coffee spoons,
the back of cereal boxes,
the children engaging
in a colloquy of silly
subject matters,
the dog begging through
those sad puppy dog eyes,
utterly emancipated
from the helicopters
of pandemonium
as we sat around the table
while the jovial squirrels
played in the wilderness
of our backyard

I was in paradise alright

— The End —