My December Cigarette
I woke up yesterday,
Just like any other day.
A six hour hangover from
A twelve hour night.
Nothing out of routine.
I am smoking my cigarette,
While shivering nude
(but in my robe).
Something about the naked
Trees that have lost their leaves
That just seems to be a bit of me.
I am that naked tree.
I have lost my security,
I have lost all, and am tempting
The fate of nature,
The fate of natural selection.
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Cheap cigarettes.
All in a search for self respect.
While pondering this,
I cannot help but to notice
My December cigarette.
The smoke blows in contrast
With my breath.
Which is the one dancing?
My rum flavored breath?
The tobacco?
Who knows.
Or is it really dancing?
Is it flailing in the sky?
Falling upwards?
I am that naked tree because
My leaves have fallen from
Shelter, perhaps they were
Dancing as well.
Perhaps I am not that
(jerk) of a son that I thought I was!
Perhaps, I let them dance in
Sacrifice of my own self protection!
Then again, if the ambition was
To dance, how much protection
Could it possibly have been?
Ah, but alas,
The joker was the king’s greatest
Shield, it gave the court something
To be entertained and laugh at,
As the king did as he pleased.
I see the woman next door,
Trying to sell her boxes of clothes
To my roommate for a dollar.
He gives her a dollar, but
Refuses to accept the clothes.
She said it was all in the
Spirit of capitalism,
Not out of charity.
But, you know . . .
That just seems to be the
Way that things appear anymore.
People talk about their
Politics,
Religions,
Ethnicities.
So on and so forth.
Simple (simple) conversations,
Desperate hope that
SOMEONE knows and relates
To what the (world) you are talking about.
But, that’s all.
Biodegradable conversations,
And disposable integration of conversation.
Moments with others that seem
Like some shining (bright) light,
A five minute light bulb.
A blinking lava lamp.
That’s about it.
An hour later, and it’s a whole
New light bulb.
Even more commercialization.
Take it now,
Get another later.
We all do it.
Well, the cigarette is done,
And my few minutes have passed.
It’s time to put something on
And carry on with my day.
It’s time to see what clothes
My roommate brought home
For dollar, and time to see
What I could possibly use
Now that my leaves are gone.
sexxxxxxxxxxxxy penguin
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