Patience and Nicotine

PATIENCE AND NICOTINE “coffee, two sugars, hold the cream please” home made filtered cigarettes bitterly cutting the cost. too many books on the floor and the walls. he cooks dinner – chicken and au gratin potatoes – “put more potatoes. it lasts longer.” cars speed on M-72 – noisy speed – the dog licks herself desperate with nothing else to do birds chatter from one cage to another and I am lost in normality with my freedom strangled in dusty curtains and a sinkfull of dirty dishes. “do they have cats in Baghdad? CNN didn’t say.” car insurance is due – life is due. he cooks dinner “did you put more potatoes?’ I wait for what is mine, maybe a knock on the window in the morning or at midnight, but he kisses me and rushes in the kitchen. today I look old with my life at a lent starving I’m unplugged from today – no spices “how was your day?” “fine. yours?” “fine.” slice, spice, butter, bake. I didn’t laugh or cry today no twittering of blue birds just screams and groans of a mad beast that bites foaming, clawing the wrinkled skin. we are two old statues in the park and pigeons **** on us because we forgot to be drunk on foolishness.