LOST CIGARETTE

LOST CIGARETTE

I followed you
up to your room
and kissed you
in the hallway
buried in the
mad curls of your
cigarette scented
hair the sweet
taste of your
tongue and
too soon for
anything more
It was October
in Paris
3AM
You sang a
sad jazz
bittersweet
and lonely
All of us in
your spell
When I saw you
struggle with equipment
at the end
I was there to carry
and talk as we
stumbled across
cobblestones
wet from fall rain
reflecting stars and
neon
I came back
next day with
flowers and
croissants but
the landlady
in apron
said you had gone
that morning
on a plane back
to America
No note
except for a blue note
burning slowly
like a
lost cigarette

Text by Ralph Alfonso
Photo of Jay DeFeo by Wallace Berman, 1959, San Francisco.