He sat in the old Parlor chair
endlessly smoking cigarettes
Smoke rings above his head
Everyone had to be quiet
and no one would dare touch
the television if he was sleeping
The black belt with the gold buckle
around his neck, just in case...
In the Summer I slept
with the sheet over my head
listening to a radio talk show all night
The streetlights beamed into my bedroom
and I could hear him walking up the stairs
I never got much sleep, anyway
I once read about a man-eating witch
from the hills and moors of Scotland
who contently sat on a pile of human bones
She had blue skin and one glaring eye
I wanted her to eat him and sit on his bones.
Louise Marie DelSanto
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/smoke-rings-2/
