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.