7 and 13

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