cigarettes and coffee

I still have my humor
and a piece of love that grows and fucks.
there hasn’t been a woman, yet
to make me forget
what so funny about this world
and the next.

“how many times have you had sex, platano,” an old friend
said
and I looked over at him, and shrugged, “I lost count
after I lost my virginity.”

he laughed.
we both laughed as we took our cigarettes with coffee.
we were never good friends, but today
felt different.
not like I never thought of him as a friend,
but how can he understand me?
how can I expect it to be?

but he understands now.
he’s bled my blood and I his.
we’ve bled for a women we loved,
and laughed at our pain after.
I throw my cigarette at the ground, still lit
and look at him enjoy his still.

“with pain like this, you have to enjoy your cigarette and coffee
for as long as you can, platano.”

I nodded. wise words from a man who’d lost his wife.
wise words, indeed.

maybe tonight I’ll find a 20$ hooker on 17th street:
try to have coffee and cigarettes at 9 at night.