Pumpkin Yellow Apple Leaves!

you always get the last word
you!
even when you are not here.

and it was fine,
less perfect than expected,
but fine.

he smiled like,
where did you come from
and why?
he called like why am i
nervous and why?
where are you, answer
your phone
(forgetting that slip -
she will
be
the death of me)

he spat like
Noone Wants You Here!
and why,
such formalities
are spat, spat.

bump bump
rumble, rumble,
all over the skin,
It is back!

like air through the paper of the cigarette,
speckling freshness at my throat
with hazy air -
desire!

like air sifting through
tobacco leaves,
leaves? not a smoker.

i spat like whew
i lost myself,
through the filter, came
out -
and air!
i can breathe.