the cigarette burns a hole
through the styrofoam plate.
they aren't made for ashtrays,
she tells me
but why should I care?
it's her table
in her house
it's almost out anyway
you can't smoke the filter
I feel happy,
but maybe it's the nicotine buzz
her fingernails are red
I wish mine were,
but mine are too short
and my fingers too stubby
so i change the conversation
to motorcycles
because mine is brand new
and instead she can be jealous.
Nov. 1995
Wednesday, November 1, 1995
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