Cigarettes are the means to fight Wednesday night porch demons

I could write poetry in circles around them, but they only seek heat and I don’t give off any naturally

So a little flicker and a little nicotine tricks them into a delirious sickness that the price is I get caught too

The porch demons are nice. They’re the friendly kind of demon

They smell like bonfires and vermouth and sandcastle and sex,

They kiss like rain as it decrescendos from a thunderstorm
Wild, hungry, deep, soft, longing, forgiving, gone.

They’ll tell you they like marlboros best, because of the way the gold on the wrapper

Curls away from them like a word they’re trying to remember.
They like the smoke

The way it touches their skin-
The way the soft light burns at them,

As it makes them real with each inhale, each exhale that transcends into a release of conversation,

Of thought,

Of memory.

The porch demons are nice. They like a good smoke like they like a good conversation,

Desperate, dragging, itching under their skin
Until the calm sets in and then


Can you hold my sweater?
I’ve got to go have a kiss with some cigarettes.