Dear M.,

How did we get here?
Extinguished, bottled
Green, bolted to this
Merry-go-round that
We cannot leave.
Well, at-least for now.

Yes, the empty room
Returned. In our minds,
That’s what we’ll call our-
selves. Just for today.
On a hard bench,
Our cigarette smoke

Signaling these lousy words
for which the answer is,
how many times,
“No More.”