If Only; Smoke It by Jeffrey Zable

IF ONLY

Let’s just say that nothing matters within the matter

and that the chokehold of life is really a cloud that never knows

whether to evaporate or sully itself with disjointed words.

I never asked to be here and most of the time I wind up in another

dimension—a dimension in which the animals sing melancholically

while welcoming you with outstretched claws.

Other than that, the licentious clock has informed me that time

is trapped in an infected wig with absolutely no hope of redemption.

I will say that I could have loved you more if I’d seen your face

while trying on a pair of burning pants at the bottom of a ravine. . .

SMOKE IT

Yes, I am proud to be me, but I don’t identify with the human race.

I wouldn’t mind if most of humanity went somewhere into space

and never came back.

Of course I have friends whom I care about enough to water their plants,

and would loan them money for a hamburger if they forgot their wallet

and cellphone.

But no, there’s no one I’d risk my life for with the exception of my wife,

who’s really the only person that I ever loved.

And now you can stuff that into your pipe and smoke it…