Smoking heavy past two years
the butts weight up with ash
and I flick if off with my right
hand
cupping the embers

I stare up and watch the snowflakes
land in the lighting from the lamp
trickling down across the space
the bulbs here and there
colorful exclamations
I dont know what the date is
or time
Im just out here having a smoke

phone not going to ring

and everything I was wondering
about writing in my books
are all there
stacked neat enough

laundry not even going round
Just Wolfe on the stereo
Thinking I thought i knew bout
about things
but I dont
and that makes me feel calm

just a man taking coffee
smoking his last drags on a
smoke before he takes
another on a battered old
favourite case someone
gave him

Havent been in love maybe
never
Just letting the women sing
to me on the stereo
writing letters and pretending
while the seasons come and
go
shirts wear out
like my eyes slowly going
and the bones aching all
day but im used to it

like a room
coffee pot off
taps turned off
light on

its snowing
soft
and beautiful
like a dream