all of us.
cigarettes
i’m remembering now those hot summer days,
working for my old man,
standing around the old time clock,
waiting for my turn to punch out.
we’d hop in my car, roll down the windows,
and smoke cigarettes.
the wind rushing by would carry the clouds
out and away from us then.
it seems like this was a time in our lives
where all we did was smoke cigarettes.
dear god, i have never felt such relief!
poem
there’s a notebook that i keep with me.
every thought should be a poem
that should be written down.
i mean, ideally.
i really think that if i wrote everything down,
i’d have something.