You Let Me Smoke Your Cigarette

Waylaid in a haze of big regret,
because I wanted to be like you,
you let me smoke your cigarette.

With me on your lap at our dinette,
you sought to change my point of view,                                        
but cracked the door to big regret.

I inhaled the burning bayonet,                               
and coughed until my face turned blue.
Why’d you let me smoke your cigarette?

To see your boy so delicate                        
wrestle to draw each breath anew—                                
it split your heart with big regret.

Fifty years later time’s pirouette                            
danced you down to what was true—
you no longer smoke your cigarette.         

The cards we held were bad to bet,          
dead man’s hand with markers due.
I watched you smoke your cigarette,
and sunk us both in big regret.