the eye of a cigarette
glows with inhalation,
a shallow brightness.
smoke is lost in the still dark;
like the whiskey and the dreams
that never find sleep.
a blistered sun rises,
the dawn is not so much liminal
as it is a corruption bleeding
through the rattled
exhale of the a/c
robbing both the cool breath
of the night and the
peace of absence.
ashes fall, a sacrament lost,
like everything else
.
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