when we were young
the air was a constant blue haze
from the ever present burning tobacco
mixed with the smell of cheap coffee
in kitchens, living room and meeting places
where the gathering of drunks
even though off their drink
still needed their drugs
~
the smells of cigarettes, pipes and cigars
became one mixed with the smells of cheap coffee
and fear
stories were told
condolences offered
advice given
one day at a time
work the program
none of this helped
the drunks came and went
leaving only the memories
of pain, loss and regret
~
now, i drink coffee
and strive to understand the drunken catastrophe
that destroyed our family
but it all seems like a bad dream to me now
The Ace Hotel Notebook 