Friday, April 2, 2010

Morning Notes


Coffee in my mustache. Coffee in my beard. I haven’t had a cigarette in years. I remember once sharing a pack of unfiltered Camels with a friend late one night in a coffee shop in Fresno, long before the smoking rules had changed. I was relatively clean-cut then. My mustache smelled like smoke for days, long after it had all been washed away. The smoke was in my nostrils. The smoke was in my mind. The smoke was what I yearned for when I stepped outside. A lot of people know, but still don’t realize, if you’re up at the right time, you can see the dew arrive.

(first publication)


Recently Linked: My thanks to Annie McDermott for her kind words in this concise, mournful entry of her blog, Unfiction.

Updates:
“Morning Notes” added to Poems, Slightly Used.

In the Forum: F’ool’s’.

6 comments:

Gerry Boyd said...

Lilting verse in prose format.

Just can't help yourself, can you?

Extra points for clever near-rhyme in ultimate sentence.

I am going out for a smoke now. Please pardon my filter.

William Michaelian said...

Extra points? Great! Where do I cash them in?

“I’d rather write than itch.”

don't be emily said...

Ha. My dad still slurps the coffee out of his mustache, every time. And "lilting" was definitely the right word, Gerry. Love it.

William Michaelian said...

“A man with a beard never starves in the desert.” There. I just made that up.

Wine and Words said...

William, you cracked me up with your comment on the gin tasting. Yes, you were there weren't you...would have fit right in with the rest of us unusuals. Had a cigar at the end of it, out by the heat lamp which was anemic enough to do absolutely nothing against the chill. And the cigar...well, I found it bitter and my lips still are flavored with it's bite. Hair too...just like you said. Linger linger linger...

William Michaelian said...

I’ve lived some, you know, I’ve been around, and yet, for some odd reason, I’ve never combined gin and cigars. Maybe because I haven’t tasted gin since I was in high school — and bad gin it was. Bathtub gin. But I take that back — I have tried a martini or two. Years ago, my parents tried to learn to like martinis, and partially succeeded. I didn’t. But I liked cigars from the get-go — grew up with a cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke in the house. Hack! — those were the days....