Fifteen points

She throws me a kiss like she’s blowing out candles.

I smoke long into the night,
there’s a party at Everley mansions,
tensions
recriminations
which we’ll blame on the booze.

She
flickers like lightning and strikes
I lick the Rizla and build
a new smoke,, looking
long into the candle light
waiting for the day.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.