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a poem by Jamie Townend
Smoking with Mr. Quandary
A shattered sun
leaves the night
to do what it must.
The smoke from the cigarette
ponders with me for a while:
Am I really what she says?
The mirror is unsure
and the ashtray just asks me
not to press so hard next time.
The cars pass by leaving thoughts
on why I raise the bottle to my lips
again and again.
I will smoke with my quandary,
turning the same pages
to find the absence of a conclusion.
Occasionally stopping to put cold pasta
into my mouth
where it will sit until I swallow.
leaves the night
to do what it must.
The smoke from the cigarette
ponders with me for a while:
Am I really what she says?
and the ashtray just asks me
not to press so hard next time.
The cars pass by leaving thoughts
on why I raise the bottle to my lips
again and again.
turning the same pages
to find the absence of a conclusion.
Occasionally stopping to put cold pasta
into my mouth
where it will sit until I swallow.
© by Jamie Townend
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #18 ~ November 2011