By ZoE
Date: 6 October 1999

Smoking Cigarettes With Trees

A glass of milk I cannot finish
you flipping through papers, feet elevated, looking like Audrey Hepburn 
with the noise of you crunching on square crackers
pouring my milk down the tap, I think of Santiago who looked at me like I was something
awkward, telling me that I am different
and me falling four stories down from the ladder we climbed inlayed in shadows on the
brick building

you crunching on crackers, laughing the way I wish I was laughing
as pictures dance on the otherwise vacant wall
In one I am smoking a long cigarette like a movie star in a pale dress 
(I do not remember this)
as night propells itself forward we walk to the corner of your filmy colored street and
smoke parliments straight from your bare hands with the trees
 
You play with the edges of my notebook, the corners of your mouth turned down
you humming songs I do not like, running your hands down my back
I wish every song was yours to keep in your blue jacket pocket, your hair smelling like an
orchid
writing you a whimsical song in my sleep without words

I climb on to the shadowy roof
our old car  peeking from the darkness
these legs have served their purpose 
I am hardly in control
I wish this was about me but it is not
I wish this was about the car or the poison ivy growing from under the steps but it is not