The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Fri 2/2/2007) [View All]

Smoking In Punxsutawney

You do the long suck,
just like when you were a teenager,
and the paper crinkles back
from the orange gem, no buzz this time,
though it helps the winter feel shorter.

Anyway, new meanings come to light:
rule of thumb and the quick flick,
ashes scattered like sandflies by the swat,
how the place got its name, and the damn thing
burning inside its hole, bathed in shadows.

They keep it in a library the rest of the time.
A library, for Christ's sake, climate-controlled.
Once, some lunatic from Pittsburgh
lifted the glass and let the critter run loose.
They found it later in the microfiche, scared shitless.

You're one of those people who turns
the first cigarette, filter to the bottom of the pack,
and saves it for last. Six years of good luck, they say.
You light someone's cigarette. Six years of sex.

Either would be a nice change
from the handler's cold grip, as he plucks you from the stump
and holds your body against the gleam for maybe two minutes,
before he screws his boot into your butt
to shoo you back into the lightless year.

Thomas Bates

***************

RL

If you have a request for a certain Poet, post their name in the thread and I will find a poem by them and post it...

if you want to see some of my poetry, see the blog at:
http://www.myspace.com/retropaul