Smoking Sanity

she tries on masks each evening, with a bottle of wine.
the chain smoke circling her head like a gentle fog. her long
white gloves tipping at the ash tray. every envious suitor
has a tale from that strange night. scratching at the brink of
sanity, where age does not matter, where cold bones rise rest less.

she is that, and more. dark. lurid. leaning into the wind.

some nights she will call to her suitors, long after they've left.
madness is unique for each tenant, wouldn't you say? slowly
devouring what others recall. "pass me another cigarette,"
she would say. "i think i'm losing my mind."

grocery aisle

in my dream of you
dreaming of me,
i am more wonderful than
myself. or so it seems.

tossing thru nights like
tumbled bowling pins, and
grocery carts

in your new dream,
i am a new me. shiny,
polished, & packaged.
selling on the discount aisle.

your cart full of has-beens
and why-nots. and no, i am
not on your weekly

but seeming a bargain -
tossed in, checked out, &
take me home.

house signs

houses sing to you
while driving past.
buy me.
rent me. i'm yours.

these are homes
un wanted. places not
owning anyone. rampant
in begging, please. now.

cash in that long promise.
ink your desire in
scribbled name.
your need can live in this yard.

i will call you home
from work each evening.
bring me your body's weight.
lay under my shingles of love.

even the rain
won't find you here.

Richard Lighthouse is a contemporary writer and poet.
He holds an M.S. from Stanford University.

His work has been published in: The Penwood Review,
West Hills Review, Mudfish, and many others worldwide.

2008 Underground Voices