Smoke and fire and oil and fog.
Palm trees, brown lawns and smog.
The last drag on your cigarette in the early morning dew.

The last thread on your navy skirt,
unravels from old into new.

How to tell the time,
when you no longer feel it at all.
When you water yourself,
but grow smaller,
not tall.

When the leather strap around your waist,
merely hides your only fate.
When at the end of the day,
on your taxi ride home,
you find yourself all alone.

And you take the last drag on your cigarette in silence.