~ a regular prograde moon but less than ten planetary radii ~
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packing cigarettes she leans in
cracked tilings cemented together
pinot grigio-no merlot-chilled grigio
water beads drip...i notice...i stop one
a bead of water bleeds over my fingertip
i put it in my mouth...me and the bead
ivy sanctioned metal chairs scrape
the hardwood needs paint, it creaks
designs echo like the darners needle
pink/red line and cellophane
pink/red line and cellophane
pink/red line and cellophane
cigarette smokes, cigarette smoke
the cigarette, the smoke, her lips are moving
i take the cigarette, there's a brand, branded
sticks, i remember rings and designs, cancer...sticks
i remember the first considerations, the filling
of lungs, their angst and horror, blowing billows...designs
four candles line the alley, five candles line the porch
a neighbor puts a ten year younger wife into a limo
there's a fan, there's a fan on the porch, the
child speaks up - a fan on the porch, turn on the porch fan
hearty nighttime flowers - no bee - smart buds
scents and smells...cigarette smokes...it smokes
i'm here, i'm here, i'm here
i'm over here, here, look over here
talky talk, talky talk, talky talk
who, why, when, where, how long
he is 28, he doesn't take me out, he works motors
he is Romanian, he loves to touch my mouth
bats dodge the lamplights
she's thinking of her next question
i left sitting down, i'm weary
she doesn't notice, these chairs are heavy
the pink/red cellophane blows
into her garden...the child runs...she grabs it
she says its late...she hands the cellophane to her
here she says - throw this away
the child shakes the wine bottle, it's empty
let's go...even the bats have gone home.
volvoesque humming over torn leather, gusts of air
blowing, the child says it was a good visit.
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(copyright © donna l. Quesinberry-2008)
