Apparently there’s peril in a cough,
if chronic and emitted by an old
ex-smoker who asserts she knocked it off
but still bums hits (her habit is paroled
which should be locked for life). It isn’t bold
to finally and permanently stem
inhaling smoke. My breath must be controlled
before I choke to death on my own phlegm.


This entry was posted in Aging, Health, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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