The Cellophane on my Smokes

[couchgrouch]

The Cellophane On My SmokesMotels are flashing neonthey all say no vacancyWinstons are the only shelterthat hasn't forsaken methough the chill of autumnsneaks inside my old coatit's loneliness...not windthat makes my collar feel thinas the cellophane on my smokesshe sat near my barstoolwhen she saw my wedding bandcheetahs like a hard chaseand she likes a married manthe mirror in her bedroomwas crooked, foggy and brokethough I poured a tall glassthat mirror saw through my masklike the cellophane on my smokesit happened fast...the clock hands clappedand neither one of us spokethen she whispered her name as I unwrappedthe cellophane on my smokesmy dreams were scarred and bleedingfrom guilt's rusty, jagged knifesin haunts us, when we're unconsciousand I hadda tell my wifeshe cried when I told hertill her faded blouse was soakedthen she got on with her lifecrushed me and tossed me asidelike the cellophane on my smokesnow I shiver and shudderblowing down the gutterlike the cellophane from my smokes(c)2005 Robert George