Metamorphing 

I’m walking in an idyllic place.

The sky is a perfect shade of gray.

Many diverse kinds of birds

Chirp and call and sing their lovely tunes.

The morning is cool,

And the soft light diffused by the clouds

Provides the consummate hue to start the day.

And then I see a cigarette 

Lying by the curb in the street.

It was night here, before this peerless morning.

Someone completely out of his wits

Took a piss in the alley.

Someone stumbled in at his door

To “I don’t love you, anymore.”

I remember when I was five.

I smile when I think of how early I’d rise.

I had a lot of work to do.

I’d stand on the top of the commode

And pull the mirrored door around

So I could see how white my teeth were,

So I could show the world on the television commercial

I was about to make there in my bathroom.

I’d put a dab of my mother’s cold cream

On my hair so it would shine.

Then, at first light, I’d go outside,

Get right to work making mud pies.

The sun would come up on me,

Up to my elbows in dirt,

But I had to work.

First I had to see 

The inventory left from yesterday.

Who had eaten up all the donuts?

Cakes were gone from my mud bakery,

And pies, and just as the sun would shine too bright,

My mother would appear at the door,

Bleary-eyed and furious, and tell me 

I would have to come in and bathe again before school.

And there would be a cigarette,

Lying soggy in the road in a puddle 

Right beside the bus stop.

I don’t know how I learned to read,

But I already knew in first grade,

And read all the books

In the elementary school library.

Then they brought me more to devour,

And I would get to sit quietly 

Away from the rest of the class

In a sunny window seat,

And from there I could see where our teacher went

When she left the room.

She’d appear for just a minute’s break

On the west side porch,

And take a cigarette and light it,

Hold it between her fingers,

Middle and index, and put it to her lips

Like the sexy movie stars on tv.

She would breathe it,

And I would see a side of her

The other children never knew.

Then she’d crush the cigarette butt

And carefully put it in her purse

And disappear,

And soon return through the classroom door

With her lipstick newly reapplied

And resume her teacherly duties with a proper,

“Now, children, we will learn...”

—-

I like to think about the future with a little f,

Since you said we couldn’t have a future with a big F.

I laugh because I don’t have a future with myself, much less with you.

I think the future is over-rated,

Or maybe it’s just f’d up.

But while you told me all about it,

I just stared at that cigarette you threw

Down on the ground,

Because I knew you already had a girlfriend .

——-

Everyone else can be themselves.

He or she can walk into a room

And do whatever he or she 

Would naturally do.

I, alone must be aware

Of my self-presence.

I must be extra polite,

Walk just right,

Speak delicately.

Everyone else can be themselves.

I have to travel light,

And lightly, because 

I’m ballsy as hell.

So I’ll keep quiet

Til someone needs someone to yell,

And then, you better let me do it,

Because there might not be

A second chance

To get this right.

Sometimes it’s true, one needs

To speak softly and carry a big stick,

And sometimes.... one needs a great screamer

To be on his or her team, 

To show the world the defense means business.

And sometimes all one really needs

Is a cigarette.

——-

But not me!

I’m not allowed 

To smoke or drink

Or need anything.

A constant stream of things to do

Keeps me out of trouble,

And yet I wonder if it prevents me

From thinking about tomorrow .

Thinking of what I might truly need 

Or want in the immediate future,

The future with the little f,

The Future with the Big One.

—-

“Do you smoke after sex?”

“I don’t know, I never checked!”

I hear the canned laughter 

Of the variety show on TV, 

And the quick cut to commercial.

I can’t find my babydoll .

I can’t find my joke book.

I wanted to go on the boat tonight 

With my parents, but they wouldn’t let me.

I’m so tired. I brush my teeth and go to bed,

And no one had to tell me to do that.

I open the window in my room

That I share with my two brothers,

To let in the cat with sea-green eyes.

I hug it up to me and sigh.

It stretches out right beside me

On my pillow, and we both sleep.

But I know in the morning when I wake

To open the window to let it out,

There will be cigarette butts on the ground

Just outside my window pane.

And I will realize that I 

Have smelled cigarette smoke

All through the night.

———

But today is another day.

-jenn