crazy

i slide the hard-pack of cigarettes across the counter.
the cashier swipes them and i look beyond his sunken shoulders to see the
first eddies of orange early morning sun
swirling right above the trees.

i wasn't sure about my next move
but the cigarettes felt comfortable in my
jeans.

i leave the gas station and look back at
that cashier
listening to blues and playing solitaire on
his computer,
and i know that i can't help it
if i'm happy not to be sad.

a ray charles tune drifts in over the radio waves
and i light the next cigarette, watching smoke
trapped by the windshield pile up and
get sucked out the window.
lost to the greasy fog that had slipped around the car.

oh let it be me, please please
let it be me.