She may have been a drunk
but knew the taste of fire
smoked thru Marlboro Reds
between lips
that savored
the taste of pain
given
like story book rhymes
I will always remember

In Dublin
her letters soiled
how boys are charming
but not as mouthy as me
quotes e.e. cummings
under the smoke rings
seals it shut with a wandering tounge

There’s a longing
and she glows in it
endures this halo of sadness
to live in the valley
where only the lost can survive

Back at the local bar
there is too much lipstick
and not enough words
too many heels
and not enough boots
too many blondes
painted black
and faking it

It is only when
a door slams
I think of her
how she always leaves
but never says goodbye