I don’t know what people who don’t smoke
do with their hands while they walk.
I have dabbled, and just
pockets will not suffice. Terrible to go down
the street with nothing burning between your
fingertips. Yes it kills, but that’s how good it is,
don’t you see
the pretty girls of summer
doing it, so savoir faire, sure.
It is the summer of the cigarette; the spring of
the move, the second year of loneliness, continued.