Firsts, 2013

Did you find in fire and shifting things the prophecy you hurled down…the splendor and the sadness of the world?
–F. Scott Fitzgerald

You light mine with yours and
I breathe in
and cough
because it is my first time.

Thick and spicy,
my tongue swollen
with smoke, slick oil, pond slime.

Giddy green groping garden
mint flats dress shoes
black railing and business blazers–
we are so button-up.

The tip crumbles and falls
Ash sticks to my fingers like chalk
I wish I could stamp
you
out.

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