A quick one...

Just to kill a few seconds
whilst the ice melts
and the cigarette is reduced
to the butt.

Cohen's 'dance me
to the end of love' plays
over the digestion
of a few lamb chops.
All is beautiful.

Just like leaving this town
for six days
to the middle of nowhere.
Olde inns and country tracks await.

As a loyal servant
to condemnable things
I raise my final bourbon
and my last cigarette.

Dance me to the end

of love.