it's not dark yet

i snuck

a pack of cigarettes,

and a pint

of scotch into Jakes 

hospital room

when he was dying

of lung cancer.

he was hooked up

to a few tubes

of liquid something or other,

and the monitors

blinked with

his vital stats.

he was trying to itch

a spot

beneath the bandage

around his head

when i came into the room.

i handed

him

a plastic fork so that he

could dig

in and kill the itch.

he asked for his pocket comb

too,

located in his paint

splattered pants that he

wore almost every day

i saw him.

he wanted it

so that he could

smooth

out his mustache.

there was a new nurse

on the floor

that caught his eye.