cravings
Jesus do I want a cigarette every now
& then especially when the fish-eyed sun
splashes through the window while black
coffee scalds the milk & kitchen tiles cool
beneath my feet & the cat wanders across
the counter kibble-meowing to wake the dead
while my wife lightly snores even though she
swears she doesn't snore & the kids sleep
over-sugared late night sleep & my pencil
scratches the notebook page or crossword
puzzle I won't finish because damn Will Shortz
& his seven-letter words & it's right then between
the vowels the crave hits & I pat my shirt pocket
for a Bucks Light or maybe a Marlboro Light if
I was flush but that pack is thirty-plus years long
gone despite its ever-constant weight & even
though I smoke a cigar every now & then with
a celebratory bourbon at the end of a semester
the cigarettes are what I remember most,
wolfing down two in the ten minutes between
Shakespeare classes when the red-haired girl
whoofing upstairs would bum a light just to stand
around & talk with my clueless ass & I still haven't
puzzled that one out despite the years of marriage