Lazy Smoke Rings
To the placid pool of my memory,
in silence, they keep drifting back,
tired tales of untaken opportunities,
of had it not been, of if and only if,
of what could or should have been.
Vividly seen through shut eyes,
thoughts float, swirl slow in lazy air
like deathly ashen, oval smoke rings
leaving the insomniac, arid mouth
of this drunken, drowsy chain-smoker.
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