7 and 13
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He draws long, panting breaths from a Winston
Then blows a slow line of hazy blue smoke from lips
Which have known the defeated downturn of pain
Fear flames up a burning urgency within his chest
He is ardent with yearning for the second chance
A chance to rediscover the intimacy of youthful dreams
Compromising in prayers, he tells me how to cruise
My Thunderbird whizzes past green road signs
And one exit is the one where he buys his Seagram 7
Without a second thought, I announce to him
“The exit is Exit 13” – Is this a harbinger of what is to be
Him and his muse dies from alcoholism at the age of 44!
I miss him
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2020
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