If I should be a smoker
I should be a rail
thin and hard
evenly spaced
biting air with my crocodile teeth
resilient to the storm
when you hold tight to me

but I am not a smoker

If I should be a drinker
I should be a laundry basket
oblong and woven
uneven and crosshatched
with soft rhythms
conducting washer and dryer
yet deep enough to hold our secrets

but I am not a drinker

If I should be an addict
I should be a window curtain
billowed and looped
iridescent colors against atmosphere
floating in the updraft
into the west winds
where our bodies might mingle together

but I am not an addict

If I should be a cutter
I should be a jewelry box
sectioned, parceled and organized
velvet lined and sweet
compartmentally selfless
storing each pained memory
in gilded lockets clutching tarnished chains

but I am not a cutter

If I should be a writer
I should be an ash urn
cylindered smooth
bottom cupped
shell polished and etched
holding safe all that we were
scattering soon our cremated remnants

but I am not a writer

mint eyes