1662 – Smoke in Your Eyes

Smoke in Your Eyes
I’ve heard it said that smoke follows beauty and youth. Given I am who I am, I can say that is factually inaccurate.


With every breeze, I hack and wheeze.
I cough. I cry. I choke.
It follows me. It swallows me:
this fire’s sneaky smoke.

To make the fire die, I try
To prod. To push. To poke.
But WHOOSH, it roars, and upward pours
A cloud of caustic smoke.

I move around the camping ground
To catch a breath of air
But everywhere I go, oh no!
The smoke’s already there.

It chases me, embraces me,
It stings my eyes, my nose…
But I’m dismayed, and can’t evade
No matter where it blows.