When I quit smoking,
I started carrying a pack
of cards. I went all in.
I put out aces
in ashtrays everywhere.
And when, in the evening, I peeped
in the lamplit windows, I saw
a bouquet of white roses, giant
and brighter than the moon.
Deer in Diana’s headlights,
my dreams devoured me.
Spring came, I grew sick
of my friends. I gathered
cherry blossoms, listless and lovely.
I married them.
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