I've had this same cigar for over three months.
Guess I'm just not finding an excuse to celebrate
or to sit on an overgrown hot stoop with nothing else to do
Maybe take a big terrifying look into that reflective empty blue.
Between the thick itch of 8 to 5
and the cold melodrama of single life
I learned to live without.
No solution. No protection.
Just another sieve filled.
Clogged and exhausted
every other line left broken
every other piece traced
traded denial for resolution
and resolution came down like a welterweight champion
all speed
all thunder
all contact.
What would I be today?
A vacant smile on leather sandles
oblivious
complacent
fed
self actualized
serviced
respected
loved.
A tiny adventurer in one arm
a universe of mystique and tales in the passenger seat?
Carousels and disneyland
all the promise and pageantry of protracted progenation
every curly haired moppet a princess
every wife a domesticated goddess.
Just a logic map of a daydream.
One that lingers despite its inability to satisfy or suit me.