Saturday, July 30, 2011


I imagine I am drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.
You are curled up in my bed, dreaming.

I am drinking coffee and smoking
because I am a tortured artist
and must be unhealthy.

You are curled up and dreaming
because you are coquette
and forgotten among the libraries
of the 1920s.

I imagine I am smoking a cigarette
and living in the 1920s
because these are times when America
regretted nothing and danced
in the streets.

I am smoking and drinking coffee.
My mouth does not smell great
and there is little I can do about it
because dentistry in the 1920s
is not a priority.

You turn over in your sleep.
I watch you turn over
then return to my writing.

My typewriter ribbon is dry.
I must replace it soon.
I can barely make out the words
I have written.

Creative Commons License
This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

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