Evidence speckles
the morning coffee table.
A room gone bitter.
A glass with lipstick
drying around the rim.
Ash flakes the carpet and counter
like something the night had choked on
and spit up.
The cedar box sits on the table,
pretty as a coffin
for something that isn't dead.
I think I might put a cactus in it.
She bought it after midnight,
sick of finding loose tobacco
around the house.
Back when the bottle
had loosened her tongue
and made a jester out of her principles,
she wanted me to put my tobacco
where she wouldn't have to look at it.
Now she's asleep,
and the apartment smells
like the very thing
she spent half the night condemning.
She doesn't smoke unless she's drunk.
I know I'm a smoker.
I've got worse habits
that could use some attention.
I just wish she wouldn't smoke
all my fucking cigarettes
when she's drunk.
Outside, winter has bitter teeth.
I put on my coat
and walk for tobacco,
counting the change in my pocket
like a man deciding which part of himself
he can afford to feed.
There are always ways
to make a cigarette
out of nothing.
I grab the discarded butts
from ashtrays by the mall,
get them home, field-strip them,
put the tobacco on some tin foil,
dry it in the oven,
and then use the Yellow Pages
to roll a cigarette.
I know the ritual. I know the bargains.
I've watched cravings dress themselves up
and parade themselves as reasons
to walk straight out the door.
By noon she'll say she can't stand the smell.
By evening the wine will flow
and the rules will be gone.
I used to think the joke was on her.
Now I wonder how many of us need a belt
before we give ourselves an excuse.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 20th, 2026 06:21
- Comment from author about the poem: I am pleased to announce the release of my latest book, Searching for Nod. It is available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Searching-Nod-Thomas-W-Case/dp/B0HLMKLS9L/ref=sr_ Here's a link to my YouTube channel where I post poetry readings and my attempts at golf: https://www.youtube.com/@ThomasWCase
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments6
This is one of my favorites of yours Thomas. Having read it earlier on another site I will take a different direction. It is earthy and lived in. It holds the grasp of one that has lived life a poet that has written a thousand poems and words come naturally as if in speech from a seasoned mouth. It holds the grit of life where one knows those that live around them and speaks as if no one was listening. Your wordsmithing is evident in the ones you choose. Personification "winter has bitter teeth" uncommon but so vivid. You show the patience to develop a feeling and thought in actions not words. The walk, feeling the change in the pocket tells much more than saying it outright. I love the process of constructing one's own cigarette out of butts and yellow pages it says so much (I have done the same with a pipe and scraps of tobacco) The initial her buying you a box to keep smokes in tells more about her and the relationship than a paragraph could. The last stanza is the unfolding of how ridiculous the whole process is and maybe we all need that belt.
Exquisitely done. You got me at speckled evidence, dear friend 🙏🏻🕊️
Nothing worse than the non smoker who takes a drink then smokes yours
Hello, Thomas,
Wine, homemade cigarettes and alcohol words contradicting the sobriety of life in the cold stains of winter. A truly excellent passage of poetry. Thank you very much for this one.
All the best,
Tony.
I like the style of this one - very Kerouac. Descriptive and flowing.
lol I actually have friends who do that with food, nah I'm not hungry I'll order a plate of fries and then they'll eat my steak, I feel for you, I used to be a smoker but I'd always have two packs on a night out just in case. Love your nerative you brought back some of my own memories from my 20's... 💜
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