108: Admit you miss smoking, sweet boy. 
 

You miss that first drag. Have you heard, 
 
Taking other lovers you become bilingual. 
 
The smoke tows you & him in stride, in spirit  
Among the underemployed in hyper décor —  
 
Your glass half full. Your hair’s on the brink.  
Your eyes fill with fresh manpower.  
 
Counting no old thing old,  
Stay informal in no time,  
Stay new to speak..  
I’m yours, I merit you’re mine — 
 
What now to register?  
Stop waving that grape drink.