?tossing a cigarette i think there’s one in my raincoat
we smoked the last one an hour ago
so i looked at the scenery
she read her magazine
and the moon rose over an open field?*
how the fuck did they manage to be so calm? they were out of cigarettes!
it is the love a parent has for a wayward child. imagine mr. and mrs. bundy saying, we love our ted, we just hate what he’s done. separating the child from the deed.
this is how it is with me and the cigarettes. i love them, i just hate what they do. why must they be so violent? so unrepentant? i still love them. the taste, the satisfying feeling, the pacifier for lips and soul both — not to mention addiction. and, goddess knows i’m an addict in so many ways. if you have doubts, look around you now (blogging? things of that nature?) there. see?
so i’m still keeping the kids ’round the house. still upset with them for what they do, but not ready to let go and say, fry ’em, they have no redeeming value.
even though i know they cannot ever find this redemption. they must go. danger to society, all that.
but when they are gone, i will be left bereft. no doubt about it.
*simon and garfunkel, ?america?