21 cigarettes

God tosses a marigold
into the air
or maybe it’s a hand grenade
to bring in the new day

and I roll over
onto my side
to keep the sun
out of my eyes

and I know –
the money’s all gone
and I’ve smoked
twenty cigarettes

I feel like an engine
stuck in
high combustion
lungs on fire
throat ruined

been up for
thirty eight hours
haven’t showered
in three days
hair feels heavy
skin overgrown

thoughts of you now
but only in selected remembrance
filtered through a hungry stomach

I look at pictures and grow sad

cut them
cut this
cut that

and I
can’t sleep
thinking of you

at 60
going on 100

and my twenty-first cigarette

– A. Ramirez

Purchase my book, “MAN IS THE BASTARD” on Amazon.


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