it’s a different kind
of patience necessary
to beat back
all the thoughts
smoke it fourteen days
ago was my last
death of the American Spirit
or so I said it
finally and meant it
they say eventually
everything will taste better
everything will be better
seeing myself in the reflection
on the side of my pen
and that’s all I need to see
at this moment
knowing that someday
all of this might will
itself to pay off
left hand sits limp
as if there is nothing left
in the tank
but tomorrow is payday
always been middle of the week
new patience takes some
getting used to
detaching myself
from the deadly smoke
a little more every day…
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