Cigarettes

and ill be dammed

if my wife’s cigarette

doesn't smell good

hanging on the still

afternoon air

caught in this balmy pre rain

pressure drop

my wife walks past

i get her scent

along with the cigarette

i go into the house

i could follow her blind

to this trail of hers

i'm bound

and parts of me i thought i lost

were some of the parts she found

it's all pleasant smells

and small afternoon hells

with this lady

she's my gal oh for sure

without a doubt

but how in the name of everything holy

did she get mixed up with me?

she is truly a princess

of the quiet afternoon

she glows like the gardens

she tends

she smiles she snarls

she bows she bends

and

i know

i'll see

that smile

tomorrow

.

I wrote this "before" but never posted it. Kicking myself a bit ay!