he left a cigarette burning away
in a handmade clay ashtray
the sun shone brightly
almost whiting out the pages
of the day's journal entry
sun warms
breeze cools
socks and sandals
long sleeves
and holes in the knees of my jeans
the crotch patched up
by little Juanita
it's always the first spot to go
busting at the seams
of my jeans
of my life
the cigarette burns on
its owner inside
has forgotten about it
and I'm left to endure
its harmful fumes
time to move
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ReplyDeleteAw sweet, it even thins down like a cigarette burning.
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