an instinctive tap

428271_10200478450868435_367990114_n
Solo Ride to the Rockies

days were filled with busyness.

constantly rushing from there to there.

always late and slightly unkempt. falling

into places like checkers dropped from

a board. i spoke before i listened and

answered before i knew. arrogance worn

like a too soon winter coat. shouting ciao

over my shoulder like i’d seen that baby

girl do once outside a gelato place in verona.

 

finally quiet i’d watch sunset outside

my kitchen window. cold beer and

pen posed over an open journal. incomplete

poems littered every page. in solitude i relished

a newly earned peace. no one needed me there.

i counted as i inhaled.

one one thousand two one thousand three

one thousand.

one one thousand two one thousand three

one thousand.

exhale.

twenty years later i still taste the nicotine.

thumb grazes middle finger searching for

the tip, landing on my index finger as i

gently tap tap an imaginary cigarette. i am

transported out of mind. drifting to another

me fixed in time.

4 Comments Add yours

  1. heyannis says:

    Love this line: “…in solitude i relished
    a newly earned peace. no one needed me there.”
    Oh, to get away and not have to think of anything or anyone but oneself. Those occasions are rate and precious. xoA

    1. And something completely taken for granted by the young! LOL.

  2. Yes. I haven’t smoked for over 40 years, but the hand still taps that imaginary cigarette. Beautiful writing.

    1. I stopped smoking more than 20 years ago, it’s something that the instinct remains. Thank you for reading.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s