Derek R. Audette

Rookie (June 16th,1971 / Hull, Quebec, Canada)

Cigarettes & Bourbon

Poem by Derek R. Audette

I sit here,
sipping bourbon,
smoking a cigarette,
wonderfully sleazy saxophone jazz
is playing in the background.
I am enjoying myself
as I pour my thoughts out on to paper.

there are people who hate me for it.

Charlie Parker’s ‘Ri Bop Boys’
is oozing softly
from my stereo,
the night is sweltering.
It’s August.
A hot,
sticky August night.
Another sip of bourbon,
another drag of my cigarette.

there are people who hate me for it.

Those fucking neo-puritan,
quasi-fascist bastards,
I can smell the rot of their contempt.
I can feel the putrescence of their judgment.
They can’t stand how sweet my bourbon tastes,
they despise the satisfaction
that a long, slow drag
from my cigarette
brings me.

I felt their ears prick up
when they heard the snap of my lighter.
They are out there,
in the night,
behind the veil of darkness.
They hide behind the city lights
that shine through my window.

I know they are out there.
I felt their gaze
turn towards me
when they heard me slurp my bourbon.

Their vile jealousy reeks
of the decay of a human soul.
I can hear the whining and whirring
of their inability to comprehend
how a person might dare to risk self-destruction
in exchange for pleasure,
In exchange for life,
in exchange for living.
They hate me for it.
They breathe contempt.
They preach a living death.

Another drag,
another sip.
My cigarette
My bourbon
is sweet.
Charlie Parker’s song ends.
Coltrane’s 'Countdown' begins.

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Read poems about / on: august, hate, people, city, night, song, death

Poem Submitted: Friday, October 22, 2004