Pontchartrain by Erik Jensen We smoked endlessly one brackish afternoon, Opposite on our concrete back porch, idling on each other’s faults. He puffed waves of blue-grey smoke, growled. Humming through the choppy slams, I blew eighth notes – A prayer for equilibrium. Given the right conditions, he’ll try to rise above our borders, Slowly and unmistakably. Me without a retreat. But our differences shall drift back out to sea And tomorrow we’ll be smoking like We never played chicken. 04/01/2009 Author's Note: We'll see what gets said. Posted on 04/02/2009 Copyright © 2024 Erik Jensen Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/02/09 at 05:28 PM Dueling smoke rings? I never realized smoke could make music and words, but you've done it here very well. I enjoyed this unique conversation and the clever ending. Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 04/23/09 at 12:14 AM I would say this is symbolic of opponents in a real game of world military might. That is where it took me anyway. Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)