Between This Cigarette And The Next

Between This Cigarette And The Next
gordon coombes
august 12, 2003

between this cigarette and the next
from the kitchen to the living room
there is an immense danger
there is a chasm between each moment
between one heart beat and the next
between this cigarette and the next
between one lover and the next
between one fuck and the next
taking a sip of my coffee
while taking a dump
while reading a book on ancient history
time is stretched to unimaginable limits
at the very moment of enlightenment
this may be the last book I read
this may be the last coffee I drink
a blood vessel in my head may rupture
while I compose my last poem
walking up a flight of stairs
one slip in the shower
death awaits us
stalking us
he feeds on our breath
he feeds on our passion
our desire for life-

even the half-lived life
the life of a cipher
a mere functionary in the scheme of things
the life of a grave-digger
the life of a slave
the life of a mental midget
the life of a genius
the powerless and the powerful
each dread death
even those who are asleep do not go so quietly
they must awaken one last time to face death
even the suicide must brace themselves
to do what must be done
it cannot be done lightly
til enough is enough
sometimes death steals up on us
sometimes death boldly strikes us down
in the prime of our lives
at four twenty fifty or a hundred and ten
between this cup of coffee
and the next which never arrives
we are at the whim of karma fortune and chance
while admiring the simple beauty of my garden
which i have tended to each season over the years
this may be my last view of the world
or while mowing the grass
on a sparkling clear hot summer's day
while shoveling snow ice ripping against my face
going to the stores for groceries loto tickets and movies
while gazing at the stars on a cold winter's night
watching the sheets and waves of undulating northern lights
in the middle of a conversation about little day to day concerns
in the middle of a brilliant revelation
in the middle of a tirade
in our darkest moment
in our cruelist moment
or the day after winning the lottery
or after finally finding love and romance
or before finding love and romance
before writing one truly great line
to be remembered for-

while still living a half-lived life
of a shadow of one's true purpose
in the midst of living the torturously over-examined life
the picked to pieces of a life -

we die again and again
dying a thousand little deaths
a thousand betrayals
our hearts broken a thousand times-