I Sing Of My Past: A Poem For A Cloudless Sky

I sing of my past,
Like a verse from an incedibly popular tune
That you've never heard.

I sing of my past
And not just to myself,
But to all who surround me.
All who know me
Know my song
And can hum along
As I belt out another chorus.

I sing
And do not feel.
As though it's a cabaret
And this is my fourth set.

I smoke my last cigarette
And wish for one more swallow of coffee
And glance in your direction
Pleading for a sign of comprehension.

The drive home is just long enough.