standing shaking shivering cold among the ice and a thousand burnt-out cigarettes
I make eye contact with the waning moon and we share a fatal thought
and as I partake in the 1:19 prayer service of the hopeful
I whisper the sonnets of human experience with each dragon’s breath
so once more in this biting air with my natural striped gloves and leather-laced boots
Here’s to life and here’s to death.
Here’s to us stuck painfully between.
May we never walk on asphalt painted roads.
May the world pass us by as just another tree.
and as I crush yellow nicotine filters with the greatest brevity I pause
Here’s to you.
May you some day find my heart among your refuse.