How I Remember It
Recliner, reclined.
Silver dew dropped can,
no coaster, water scars on the varnish
overlapping like pond ripples.
Stubble beard cleft chin,
the dark half of the moon beneath Navy Issue glasses
which reflect a football game over eyes.
Pack two open, last one smoldering
in the V of the ashtray,
wisping like incense.
Incense of bog burning, the must of the earth.
Through a doorway,
the rest of the house is bare.
We have bags in hands.
One of us says ‘bye’
and it sounds to him like the commentator.
A long drag at least fills him for now.
