A million new memories
break upon the rocky shore
of my resonating body--
I'm waking up in a dream about
doing things without cigarettes,
completing an action,
finding a rest stop,
pausing to take in the emptiness of
long silences I can still abide.
My arms lie at my sides,
my feet are on a pillow:
the whole world seems inverted.
I sigh as I realize that old memories
will cling to neurotransmitters
and leak upon my bed
until I rise and apply
what might be called forgetting
but better yet is called begetting
because je ne fume plus is an action
more than a thought
and must be practiced.
So I get up and live
my newest history.