Vapor

"We will all have our Eden,"

says the gardening book.  Perhaps --

if we have good genes, plump wallets,

pristine  air, endure, fortuitously,     

few face-slaps from Fate.

But anything is possible, they say                    

if we know how to root amidst  

the rubble of our living hells,

our troubled dying heavens.

I'm working on that, puttering with                            

eyes, heart, past.  But the fact is,

I've already had my eden,

a story unspectacular:  expelled

for heeding a mendacious viper                               

going on about how to hex the doctor                          

and, that failing, seeking the next best vapor.