I dream of blackened lungs

your overpowering tobacco scent

grandma’s flowery fabric softener

your snowy mustache tickling

my cheek tired rough hands

ruffling my hair callouses older

than me your booming belly

laughs and frustrated huffs

during the game Go Chivas!

you’d exclaim a smile that

reaches your eyes a smile

similar—no, just like mine

late night visit to you

red and blue lights

firefighters pat

my back, why?

heads hung low

I see it—you

a body bag

in the middle

of the rug.

I still smell

your cigarette

smoke

every where

I

go

.

.

.