Tobacco

I’m here to tell you, of this have no doubt,

smoking becomes what your life is about:

smoking in bed, before sex or after,

in the throes of tears or peals of laughter, 

smoking while soaking in the tub,

at a party or on the potty,

whether broke or rolling in clover,

at midnight or next day, hung over.

Of this, please, entertain no doubt:

that’s what smoking is really about.

You may be happy and photogenic,

but tobacco is carcinogenic.

Pixelated

                The back of a Google Pixel

Each morning, in foul weather or fair,

I still walk down to the river

to make doubly sure it’s still there,

still flowing resolutely east to west,

dividing Ohio from Kentucky,

the liberal North from the conservative South

as far as my bleary eyes can see,

and even farther for the hawks on high.

When I’m assured nothing’s changed,

that no tug’s pushing four long barges

against the flow, as if deranged,

I turn to the business at hand:

my Google Pixel, with messages

that tell me what the day presages.