these days

it’s true that i’m seen smoking
before breakfast, these days
and that a boy with hair of clouds
duck-taped something square and foil wrapped
to the inside of a newspaper kiosk
for me.

it’s true i drink whisky neat
bymyself
before bed, and in dark bar stools.
and sometimes
i leave the party
before the lines have all been drawn
and go jump fences.

it’s true i carry a toothbrush in my purse
just in case,
and i have the number to a good lawyer
tattooed on my wrist.
it’s true i recite to my friends
survival skills for bears, mountain lions
and the FBI.

it’s true i sometimes skip work
to lie on the roof and count my blessings
and my sins to strangers,
and it’s true i pour myself a stiff drink
before calling home, most times,
and i always read the obits first.

but i’m still sweet, you see,
and hug strangers just because.
i smile when i ride my bicycle
(which is often, these days)
and most of those fences
take to parking lots and playgrounds.
plus the package
in tin foil
had not drugs, nor bombs, my love
just a book
for the plane.