Nov 7 · 1 min read

A Vonnegut Night
Pack of cigarettes
In a day,
Not Pall Mall
Forgive me, Vonnegut
American Spirit
Burns unforgiving,
Nevada land
Dust away,
Twelve-pack memory
Eight beers down
Dragon breath
Three cigarettes left,
March to death
Morning’s light shines
A stumble to bed
Marks an end to
Vonnegut night,
Warm sheets
Pulled overhead
Relentless sleep
Internal words
Whisper morning’s night.

