i.

smokebreak!
i rush out back
fish pack from front pocket
shake one out, lip it, get it lit
and drag

backyard
dandelions gone to seed, gray
as my exhalations
many wishes
unmade

…

ii.

mold me
bewitch my mind
with your grim poetry
adrip with morbid metaphor
and lies

until
madden’d by your devious lines
fully under the spell
of Bukowski
i writhe

…

(thx Colleen)