tibetan sixties

hungry for the breath of breathed smoke

and daylight between my eyes

 

I wheezed your name

it was enough

 

from the Everest of my desire

a lama blew loudly

 

and

unnecessarily

 

because you came you smiled you condescended you

spoke ironically

 

anyway

and the last curling whisp from your cigarette

 

mattered as much

as its ash did