Rolling Out the Cement Carpet

We could sit here & watch the
smoke drift
out over the water
as the waves crash in beneath
it in prophetic
shapes lifted
from Hokusai or Gauguin or
Miles Davis
& a skeleton hand could reach in
to light your
cigarette at just the
wrong moment say when we’re
doing a tango to the blare of
an ambulance siren
or listening in on the voice of
God echoing
in an empty 24 oz. Tecate can
smeared w/lipstick