Smoking on the Hotel Balcony

The way my throat produces thick smoke

Mimics the churning of waves from that dark fog

Along this natural wonder the stone seagulls have fled.

I can see something rhythmic and dangerous,

And now I miss him.

I see him in clear detail, smoking a Marlboro Smooth

— Or maybe just half of one to save some health and money—

And when I turn around he is asleep behind the glass.

But, since natural wonders can certainly be enjoyed in solitude,

I remind myself that I am overjoyed to see the cruel mistress of the sea

And acknowledge myself as a hardened pirate in another life.

In that life I was married to the young and chaotic Nature of All Things

He held several vessels

And offered to give any of them up to me.

In this life we also forget our baser instincts,

Instead choosing the overwhelming need of our next embrace.

I feel such a need right now and

When the gusts of cold sea air blow the cherry in my joint to ash

Just at the moment when he would’ve yelled, “Don’t smoke the filter!”

I wonder if he will say the same in our next life.