After we make love
We watch the TV shows,
Not my favourites – I hate them –
Just the ones that you love.
Because, I like the man you love.
We blow puffs at each other,
Gold Flakes or Davidoff Lights.
Maybe because smoking kills,
And maybe it’ll kill all the men,
Except this stranger you love.
And when after the goodbyes,
When life takes over again,
And familiar men start waking again,
The stranger goes off to sleep
And lives in dreams of those puffs again.