Évocation #2 Smoke

Smoke gets in my eyes and names them irritable.
With all the sneezing and coughing,
streaks on cheeks are no giveaway
If you were to ask me how I knew
you and I would be one
my story tells of a boy who died
hopeless and tired, shuddering his last in your arms.
if ‘twere not for him, we might not have lunched that day
with a French emu vet and an old school friend.
‘How long has this been going on?’ she asked,
curious at our association.
‘How long has what been going on?’ I respond,
exposing my thickness and Social ineptitude.
‘We are just work colleagues.’
with which I dismiss my friend’s wisdom and insight.
The knowing and superior smile responds, ‘Oh yeah, sure!’
I wonder what on earth she means.
Her words echo in the empty chamber where my brains used to be,
So next evening, over noodles, I recount the exchange.
I wait.
He looks at me and smiles with those ridiculously blue eyes,
‘Oh, about four months for you and I.’
‘Four months?’ the stammer escapes
and he takes the opportunity to lay claim to the last basil curry puff.
Always a bit sneaky and calculating,
probably devouring all the salt and pepper squid
while I languish in confusion.
Eventually, I respond with a well thought out, ‘ok’.
And so the sparks caught hold
stoking an unquenchable furnace.
Back-burning simply gets out of control.
The flames consume all life
and ashes blow on zephyrs and whims.
Violent storms of hell purge and terrify around us.
What will be left - too soon to say.
Will every day be smoke-filled now?
Dante, eat your heart out!


(C) 2019, A.Koh-Butler