sometime around noon on a tuesday

this weather reminds me of Marlboro lights

lit up red on fresh blacktop

where men stand around painfully sober

in suits much too big, or too small

or in no suits at all

these men never wear suits

just as they are never seen sober

by me. and to me

they look weakened there

chiseled to the core

silent in conversation

about times they had hair,

old dogs,

wives, and muscle cars

about times

they laughed until they cried,

cried until they laughed,

while they fill the space between

taking puffs to fill the jagged air above them

if you drive by sometime around noon on a Tuesday

and you can see the fragility of life

right there in a funeral home parking lot