Scene #74 from Catalogue of Missing

Kristen Lenea Ryberg

Scene #74

I miss you.
Fifty six years
of menthol inhale,
Kools, Salems,
Benson & Hedges,
generics from the discount
smoke shop in the strip center,
the pack on your white kitchen table
glass ashtray kept clean,
the pack in your favorite K-Mart hand-bag
along with the essentials:
Kleenex, keys,
wallet and Life-Savers.
They didn’t work,
those little mints had holes.
I begged you to stop
couldn’t deny yourself
each ritual:
you reach for your leatherette
cigarette purse, unclasp the ball kiss
closure, pull a clean white
cigarette from the pack, along with
your latest red Bic lighter,
a perfect slim cylinder 
held by your, often laughing,
lip-sticked lips
and lit.
That first comforting drag  
your breath’s companion
your pleasure.
I miss you.
Goddammit
I miss you.