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Everything tastes like smoke

Beelike amber

Engulfs its cold boulder

Softens its taste

It sweats in there

Lets its water go

Rolls around with spit

When it goes

Back and down

It gives to me

Its chills

Little fat boy

Chuckle

Pays the gas bill

Makes the seeing

Shiver

And shakes the rope

Down my back

Weaves that quilt

of dreams

Full of cigarette holes

$ tucks me in for sleep

At last...