Smoke rings.

You blew smoke rings

In a derelict house

In the village where you lived

And with incense

And tenderness

We made it our own


And intermittently.

But how I long to hold you

In that derelict house

The fevered intensity

Of lovers who need love.

Oh, such sporadic passion

And endless hope

I loved you,

And a kind of love

Still stabs me, patiently

In my heart

When, accidentally,

I happen upon your picture

Still inside my wallet

(A little charred from a moment of foolishness).

I cannot bring myself to remove that picture

Even though you said

You looked drugged

And vampiric

You did not

You look at me

From that picture

With such grace

And purity.

I do not remember our last moments together

But our first kiss

Remains, forever, on my lips.