I sit here,
flicking a lighter

on off
on off
on off
on off

and I like the way,
if you time it just right
you can see the tiniest
bubble of butane escape
the spark
and run screaming
into the
atmosphere

it gasps for air
freed from its plastic
prison

one tiny moment
of vigorous
effort

and then

nothing

the life of that gas
is as fleeting as my
attention

my mind so full with
terror and worry and
anxiety that it’s gone
blank

so I sit here,
flicking a lighter

on off
on off
on off
on off

waiting for a spark,
a light,
a breath of fresh
air