sans

sans something, i won't say tobacco because
every day i scour the leavings of the still- smoking
in the break area, sometimes  they pity me, leave
a quarter unsmoked because that's a better hit
for the bums goin for the butts. i just don't want to buy
a pack. if i buy a pack i'm smokin it, like an alky that'll
drink the whole bottle in two hours or the junkie
that cooks a week's worth in a day. sell me small packets
i think, sell me a four pack for 2.99. i can deal with that habit.
maybe. but if i get a whole cigarette, yes i've become that person,
if i get a whole one, i don't do a few puffs and save it.
i'm hot boxing it to half gone then whoops i remember
i wanted to save it. string it out. take a hit or two when the craving
is worst. like when i'm writing. and i don't want to blame not writing
on the not smoking. i wasn't writing before then, a consequence
i believe of the way i wanted to live a poem, and i think
sometimes, that's what i'm doing but then i remember
i have been addicted to games because, at the end of the day
 honey likes to talk
and games are a mindless thing to occupy
my other half while he does so.then it's time to
surf the resonances between us. so, writing has taken a back
seat tho my mind's been brimming with stories
or beginnings of stories that i don't write down
or note or anything so when i do sit here and begin to type
all those cool thoughts bury themselves like acorns
and i'm the squirrel with amnesia. or is it possible
that the driver didn.t crash and there are lots of things
that don't matter but when the bugs begin to crawl
then i have things that need to be done.  ok listen
there are bugs in my house again even though
my daughter doesn't live here and i got company coming.
shit. also there is so much stuff in this house
to be contaminated. oh fuck me with a borrowed tongue.
listening to new music is a good way to pass the night
and i think i'll do some poetry maybe.
before i have that quarter smoke waiting
on the tray.