The Cold

The cold cauterizes
The dainty cigarette drags
dropped upon the disaster
Of a wasted evening:

To work, to read,
To speak, to know,
To dine in peace,
Alas! I smoke.

My whimsy withers
Back into bleeding scabs
As I gather my coal black coat
And meander back inside

To think, to sleep,
To nod, to blink,
To drift aloft,
Alas! I pause.