For my Beloved Chain Smoker,

I turned eighteen this year
I can vote for mayor
or some other egocentric liar
I can buy lotto tickets
‘cause I’m stupid enough to think I’ll win
I can fight for my country
everyone knows I’ll die eventually

I can buy a pack of marlboro’s, gold pack even

for my beloved chain smoker who thinks
if he lights up enough times
he’ll burn his lips and forget the way it felt
when he would kiss his
if he puffs out enough blackness
he’ll inhale chemicals of long distance transit
a one way ticket to the only abyss
off earth where he wouldn’t miss him

let’s face it, we’d all go to hell
hell, we’d excel in hell
life’s given us so much practice

Every time he closes his eyes

he sees the boy who was the first to listen
to his cautious lips spill prisoners
his tongue barred too often
“I love you too, babe”

Now I only hear my first love’s laugh
when he’s so drunk he could ace
the breath analyzer test
with flying decimals
He’s failing all his classes

I’d buy you a thousand cigarettes
I’d let you go
For you, hell can’t be much worse than earth
But after you’ve cheated and made the finish
and left me also,
I’d run to the gilded toxic tube
and be right behind you
      wherever you both were going

The year I turned eighteen, one stopped getting older
and something inside the other lover died along with him.