It’s a cheap afternoon
with lazy stray cats,
a burning breeze
and incoherent
Mexican music.

I drink the mosquitoes
and burn my fingers
on the cigar nub.
I close my eyes
to meditate.

There is no sky
to consider the rain
and my suicide
with extra
blood spatter,
minus the note.

I open my eyes
and relight my cigar,
burn my fingers again
and exhale.