16 (for my father)-- He was telling me today/ how you'd sit/ facing the street

United States
August 21, 2009 2:53pm CST
every orange morning./ In your yellow chair/ with white hair/ and white cup/ of black coffee. Elbows on your knees/ hands folded,/ your coal fingers/ holding a single cigarette. One long drag.../ and you'd let the fire burn/ itself out/ to the skin. Staring into smoldering space...
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