Nicancerotine

I heard once that everyone
has a little poison in them—
I made out with a blond cigarette
who looks like her.

I French-kissed,
gulped that smoke
like I was fifteen again,
back of the hazed-window Camry—
sucked it in
all the
way
down past the filter,
mouth open like I was high on laughing gas.

I only a social smoker though,
and occasionally when I drink—
don't worry about it.

Say,
could I bum a smoke?