caloric thought

somewhere between the intake,
of calorie eight hundred and forty seven,
and nine hundred twenty two,
i had this un-categorized, salty thought.

but by the time i found a low carb pen,
i digested it.




smoky pauses

in the midst of drags,
of cancer's pen,
and stained brown thought,
lie the tales of merry organs.

and with a warning i cough,
stories lost in smoky air.




ignition

winter gives me time to think,
with periods of waiting
for my auto to heat,
before i can be assimilated
on rounded rubber feet.




last call


in between shots
of caramel friends,
stumble jokes that rip
through monotony and
captive audiences.

it was during this time ,
a slurred slip
cost me her affections.