gathered for heat
on the front porch
a merry band of fermented sinners
pooling their collective laughter
in a cold air swirl of smoke rise

defying surgeon generals warnings
accepting fate in the form of carcinogens
stepping away from the conversation
held within the christmas lit
advent calendar windows
saying we can’t remember
when we stopped counting the days

always someone missing from the circle
every moment overlaps into a life

heartbreak beat
by the psychedelic furs
while the trains
pull into and out of the party

remind me to send a thank you note
to the station agent

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