"nicorette" poems
I buy a shirt, a blue shirt, a button down.
I drink a glass of wine, a red, a Malbec.
And I watch.
I stand still in the midst
of the St. Cloud Market.
The crowd—that singular being—
jostles and jockeys and talks
in broken English.
I chew gum, cinnamon gum, Nicorette.
I feel my habit inverting, bending, becoming mechanical.
And I must flirt and be moral
with the shopkeeper who looks a little
like me.
And I must revert to an irrational, emotional,
childlike state as I buy three pirated DVDs.
The crowd forms a circle instinctually.
Three women dance slowly in the center.
Paper falls from the sky, newsprint, a day old.
Gunfire, the sound of it, its slowing of time.
No one says a thing
and no one's feet make a sound and
every child is perfectly behaved
for one relentless moment.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
though i’ve never smoked a cigarette
i’ve always loved the smell of tobacco.
it reminds me of shows in seedy concert halls
and the gum my father chewed to get sober
minty-fresh nicorette replacing the scent
of the wine that imbued his every breath.
i recall my grandpa, the way he sat on the porch, surrounded
by nana’s garden, listening to the songs of birds
the stub of his last cigarette, poised between frail fingers.
as it withered, he withered with it.
their walls stained yellow from the nicotine
like some vintage sepia photograph.
through synesthetic memories, i can taste the
way cigarette smoke wafted through the summer air when
my friends and i sat on our back porch, reminiscing,
nostalgia suffocating, tightening its grip like a vise about our windpipes.
i’ve never even smoked a cigarette
but they always remind me of who i used to be
before i lost what was left of my innocence.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
I'm addicted to a life
of wondering
hoping
dreaming
guessing
...and missing.
I'm trying to quit
and get hooked on living.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Chewing nicorette until your jaw
hurts
A Grateful Dead song as you switch
lanes
Glances in the rear view, making eye contact for the first
and last
time
Late nights on the tail gate
Looking at the same scene
Up and down the road
Found the hidden things
Between my feet
Above my head
And to finish it off
Another haiku I just wrote for you
To pass the **** time
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC