I’ve just started to quit smoking
There’s no way I’m writing about cigarettes
My little tubular companions for 40 years
They murmur in my shirt pocket,
Sometimes I think I hear giggling
They are so happy all the time

The smell infuses all matter, all objects
Smoke curls and diffuses into the brain
And into the household and the family

The special filters catch infinitesimal particles
And volatiles like tar and hydrocarbons,
The entire Beilstein of compounds
They are not self-cleaning
Like that oven my mom had.

When I am craving, I breath out through my mouth
I blow hard, to fling the organic molecules into space
And away from my intense desire
And I imagine lungs just incrementally pink.