My cigarette is

kissing itself goodbye

blind fire fucking itself into eternity

between my fingers

and then floating up toward the ceiling 

one long twisting ghost

old and tortured and gentle

dancing in the shape of a woman now

a cloud now

a cobweb shoestring now

riveting easily before my fool’s eyes

and I got so lost in tracing its progress

that the ghost commute got cut short

so I relight

and inhale

and taste the salt of guilt

over all that noble art

dying away in my body.

2 hour show.