Cigarette Woman

twenty packs, twenty five packs, ten packs,
its all the same to me.
are cigarettes time bombs?

they should make them in tens,
in case you don't want as many;
my grandma used to say a ten pack
would last her a month,

she didn't smoke much though.

it lasts for half an hour,
time frozen.
why are we having
this conversation.

cigarettes are disgusting,
responsible for your teeth,
you hair, your skin.

sick,
is what you look like. you're lucky
you got away while you did.

having a conversation with my mother
is trying to win
an
impossible argument.

she remembers differently,
every time.

takes her six conversations to get it
straight in the first place.
the longest brawl we've ever had:

i'm packing my boxes.
no you aren't. i'm going to sit in your room while
you're gone and feel you.
no, i'm packing my life into boxes.

she remembers it differently
of course; changed her mind when
she decided to renovate.

got angry at me
for not
packing
my life
away.

says its my fault,
all my things have disappeared.

my mother smoked for a lifetime,
until we told her she was stopping.

we couldn't stand her life then,
or the reflection of
it onto ours.

but she thinks different of this too.

possibly,
wouldn't mind starting up again,
by the look of this cigarette pack
dissertation.