i'd put my lips
to the exhaust pipe
and breathe in the
fumes if i thought
that exhaling them
would help.

and i would go back in time
listen to a rambling
speech each week
again and again
if i knew that it would
actually teach me to breathe.

or perhaps
but no

have you seen the way
it pools in the cold air
a man-made mist
of toxins and forgotten
words that we never
cared enough about?

i could choke
on it
it's not real
anyway
it's just vapor
burning papers

burning bridges
burning gas.

one of these days
i'm going to start
walking
and heaven help
whoever tries
to stop me.

i'll walk past
the town line
the cutoff where i should
have turned around
and fall straight off
the edge of the earth.

and all that will be
left of me is
a passing whiff of
exhaust on the breeze.