An array of cigarette corpses
lies dead on the floor
the aftermath of a cancer war
There's no more room in the ashtray -
no place to dispose of the sooty remains
no soldiers to pick up their dead brothers
only the nicotine stains
Salem, Marlboro, Camel, Winston
in. . . out, in. . . out
they terrify the lungs
smoke rises
ashes fall
people talk through the smoke
(they speak unrealistically about reality)
they carry their troops in packs from 9 to 5
they carry the power of their own shortened life spans
and no one gets out of here alive
- April 6, 1985, A.D.
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