he was a smoker since age 16, and I've always wondered
if maybe it was a way to cleanse conscience, if somehow adolescence
finally bested his will and squishing toxins between chapped lips
was the mini version of a mechanics hands cranking throats, of everyone
who'd ever burnt a hole in that heart (which managed to bloom in Michigan winters
and the usual mayhem of Boomer's homes.)
he calls me second generation, as if I'd been conceived
next to his tray of regrets--my mother always hated the smell
(I noticed)smoke, is never pleasant, kind of like his smile
a sign of haphazard love, the only version available to babies
who shotgunned misery like war in the womb
born to rubble and ashes
smoke looming in parental lungs, unable to let the past
go, undocumented.
he continued smoking and I continued watching
perplexed how I had more concern for his life than mine orhimforhisormine,
because 2nd hand things never count...but I was 1st! child with hand me downs,
twisted logic (like "do as I say not as I do")
sunk in
while concern of how soft my heart grew, sang
like the leather of his hands winding around "the belt" flicking
swings kin to his cigarettes, quickly, violently
so no one would see what fell
or felt.
he is close to 50 now, a marlboro reds man and I am still second
generation, with not enough grief
for death sticks...instead I write, silly lines
disjointed thoughts swollen with self censorship
(fear)
I do not want you to see
how his memory free falls like a giant glow stick
along with the charred remains of childhood and home
a swarm of hot (hurt)exploding into fireworks--a festival of hide and seek
with that little girl, who continues watching, sans mirror...
waiting for the feeling of dead
skin to relieve itself of her body, dandruff like ashes
from the past pursue surface, air and ink serving the same purpose
after years upon years of surpression...
because I will not bleed away in trays of glass,
I'd rather a casket
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