From the ashes I pull
the butt of a joint,
still
good for a toke or two;
you nod and pass a
lighter
frame of mind with me.
The electric heater
clicks -
elements erupt in a
burst
of promises yet to be
made,
kept and broken by the
heart
of a new constellation.
You sip cider from a
can and
I gag at the thought of
the taste;
like drinking a hundred
springs
you say, and I take
your word for it
wondering how many we
will see.
No comments:
Post a Comment