Digressions are beautiful, beautiful things.

January 21, 2008 at 2:18 am (Poetry)

I’ve taken my temptation, high concept, poem and turned it into a digression. This is an initial draft of that; although, I’m preparing a rewrite for tomorrow and will post a follow-up then, assuming I get it done. I like how this worked out, enjoy!

“I am temptation.”

So I walked over to Casey’s to grab a pack of Marlboro Reds.
My friend, Trevor, smokes them and nothing else—well, at least
No other cigarettes. I’m just grabbin’ some for him since I’ve
Been crashed at his place the last couple of days, no questions
Asked, no questions answered. I flash my ID the guy hands me the
Pack, and as I head out the door I hear the bell ring overhead,
And although they sound nothing alike my mind drifts to sophomore
Year of high school, the bell for class already ringing, the year
when Jessica stopped smoking.

I didn’t, so on her birthday each year we would sit in my closet,
And I would smoke, puffing plumes into her lungs. Our senior year
On New Year’s, I took as long of a drag as I could, held it in my mouth,
And planted my parted lips over hers. We both gasped without
Letting go—it was so much that it rolled out of her nose and into my
Half-opened eyes. Tears formed in their corners, and for the first time
She believed me when I told her I loved her. We broke up after four
Years, sophomore year of college, right around when I stopped smoking.
She still calls. She still loves me, I think, and I never stopped loving her,
Even after six years of separation, two of them married. My wife,
Julia, knows I love other women from when I was too drunk not to
Answer her questions, but she also knows I love her and would never
Have an affair. It bothers me a little that sex is what makes the
Difference. I also wonder, because I haven’t yet, if I will fall in love
Again; when I was younger, having sex was a good incentive to stick
Around and find out whether or not it was worth it. Now it seems
Beyond my control and a little unnecessary. The borders aren’t closed
Per se, but I’m not looking to cross any borders. And sometimes I wonder
If Julia has old boyfriends that she still calls—I’ve never asked. Sometimes
I like to secondhand-smoke or stand in bars so that the smell seeps into
My jacket. Sometimes I want to go back to that closet, blanketed by
Wool overcoats, light brown hoodies, and old t-shirts, where we would
Kiss passionately, blind in a haze of burning tar and rolled-up paper that
Would only touch my lips.

I cross the road and stuff the pack of Reds into my coat pocket. I’ve
Never smoked one before, but I want to try. I’m 21 years old, and
Thought I smoke cigars when I’m drunk, I’ve never had a cigarette.
Not even one. I never knew a Jessica who quit smoking either, or a
Jessica who smoked. She looks a lot like someone else, but I’m sure
Her name was Jessica. I zip up my coat. The life I never lived, but I
Still miss because I know it as surely as I know myself. Sometimes,
When I’m crashed at my friend Trevor’s place, I offer to buy him
Cigarettes because they make me nostalgic.