All the time tired
Wakeful sleep
The illuminated dial
Bleeds into the dark
I remember
Your rough hands
Abrading my skin
It’s no use trying
To fall back
Asleep, I light
A cigarette hoping
The smoke will burn
Away your remaining images
The flutter of falling ash
Looks like dirty snow
Settling in the tray.

01/15/2003

Posted on 01/15/2003
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