San Jose, Belize 2/13/97

The cherub cheeked patrons of the local bar
Have watched me light the cigarette and breath
Deep-a break in the action-I glance out far-
Then back to the story… but they've all left!

That's how I imagine it now in dreams,
Which wake me from my restless nightly sleep.
The cigarettes will kill me it now seems,
And the disappearing company I keep.

No excuse will ever do. I must quit.
Now in the second day of quitting , again
I drink scotch and wait for myself "to commit"
To save myself. Why do I choose this pain?

The claws are in my lungs and my head aches
As I drink and pray that it's not to late.