Our silence is normal:
the slow decluttering of the brain,
acclimating one self to the other, yet again.
We weed out thoughts not worth speaking;
I watch you suck smoke through the ornate tube,
breathing out contemplation,
muddling thoughts, pleasure?
I don’t know.
We begin to talk through the smoke in the air
about the future
and the Now;
you seem so full of concern.
I watch thick smoke puff out your mouth and nose,
diffusing through the air around us
in wisps, spheres, and sheets of gray.
I wonder if that’s how our love works:
a deep concentrated inhale,
an expectant pause,
a rush of tingling feelings,
then a release of the stuff
to add to the atmosphere over time.
But I realize the analogy’s imperfect
to summarize us tonight,
because the tobacco leaves me
chilled and queasy,
but you leave me
warm and soft.
Annie Neugebauer is a poet, novelist, and blogger. She has work appearing or forthcoming in Wichita Falls Literature and Art Review, Six Sentences, Texas Poetry Calendar 2011, Voices de la Luna, Encore, and Versifico. She is the President of the North Branch Writers’ Critique Group, as well as the Vice President of the Denton Poet’s Assembly. She lives in Denton, Texas, with her husband, Kyle, and cat, Buttons. You can visit her at http://www.wordsByAnnie.com.