The night the lights went out
you took the Bic from my pocket
and lit a Marlboro candle
***
Our tobacco stained kitchen
didn’t mind the loss of the fridge
and the ice machine
***
Didn’t interrupt our voices,
because all that was left
were my words waiting for yours
***
We found that old radio in the attic
and out of the static and fuzz
we found out
***
It wasn’t just our house, our block, or state
the whole damn eastern seaboard
was taking a long vacation
***
So it was you and me waiting for the sun
in the darkness
wrapped in a cloud of smoke and poetry
A Word I Haven't Found Yet 