Been at it for years ‘till

I can’t remember how long

Fourteen maybe fifteen when

first inhale reached and made

Dizzy, my head spun, thinking

What for? years later

Sneak one here, one there

Followed by remorse, guilt

Combined with pleasure

The paradox, the crux

Yes they are good sometimes

With a beer or in the morning

With coffee. After

a hard day smoke

drifts away unease and makes

clear the mind sometimes

others it darkens in the

way it does lungs and teeth with time

but it’s always gnawing like

rodents on ships rigging

always craving like junkies

or burroughs through the years

it never gives enough and always

wants more more more

it does not want love nor hate

just fire and the endless inhale


Anonymous said...

Dear Rick: I am here in Lakeland to help Dad move and am discussing your blog with Mom. The one about your uncles in particular we thought excellent. I don't know why so many Americans support Bush; it may be some perverse patriotism, "America, right or wrong". Apparently Americans and Venezuelans are nearly matched in patriotic fervor.

ras said...

One of Mom´s ól PC budies who still lives in Venezuela puts it quite bluntly: "no one really guves a fuck." And if this is also true of our country then we are in a sad state of affairs. It seems that pop culture and it´s entrapments have replaced quality of life.