PIPE SMOKE ILLUSIONS

Do I drink like my father wanted to

without knowing if I am starting or finishing a job

without knowing if in the end it all is starting

with a verve and a wander down the aisle?

I pay my way without causing an element

of grief – no more can I outburst the plexus

and start the reel from reeling

against the stormy hearted mirth of knowing

you my love, my bottle of sanctity and growth

my form of nature that goes unrescinded

I am of good nature but at best

of small talent compared to your

aphrodisiacal glance in the mirror

of pipe smoke and release.

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2019

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