She was Perfumed with Cigarettes and Beer

These are both from the Bowling Alley period.  I find when reading back through them there is an underpinning of angst, fear, loneliness and anger, but there is an underpinning of hope strewn throughout, weaved into a tangled skein of confusion.  There were a few “desire” poems from that period and I submit one for your approval.


She was Perfumed with Cigarettes and Beer

She stomped her feet

in defiance.

A gesture only known to youth.

To encapsulate beauty

with he word “cute”

Would be presumptuous;

superfluous really.

A life of desire

only known through gestures

of copulation for redemption.

Speaking of love

in the throes of ecstasy.

The drug of choice.

A modicum of desire

is all that’s required.

Alcohol, the catalyst

of wanton cruelties,

ruling consciousness,

the pain of friendship

and the flurry of seduction.

The moniker “cheater”

so deferential as to

abandon hope.

A life separated from a

promise of dreams

a promise of touch

a promise of love.

So valued as to capitulate

the necessity of abandonment.

Where is home?

Where is love?

So abstract a concept,

only to be requited by the foolish.


the only vestige for the depressed.

She downs the wine with

one singular swallow.

Devaluing the past

with a hope of the future.

A desperate cry of my name.

To bring resolution to pain.

To bring absolute restitution

to choices so wrongly executed.

But how to absolve?

How does one abandon

that driving force to mend others?

How does one ignore hope?

ignore love?

ignore life?

to adhere to pretensions held by priests?

Who am I to absolve

the pain of others when

I cant evolve through

the pain I derive?

Love contracts hope

but desire trumps all.

Matters of the heart are forgotten

for individual moments

of ecstasy.

So she stands and pounds her feet

with the beat of my heart

and I smile



then abandon her to problems

as I embrace my own.


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