marlboro light

just after dawn, he started a war
with the shadows already retreating
under the cover of darkness,
waiting for the angles of the light to
align with their own shades.

everything made more sense
when he was chasing his sweet
sweet coffee with
vodka and orange juice.

when we threw the Marlboro light
at the curtains and waited, wishing,
for their damp cotton to catch
he drummed his fingers on my sternum
and I counted backward from 99

like they tell you to do
breathing in anesthesia.

I remember it all though and
the cigarette fizzed out.