Dec 2018
A glob of
Black tar -
The smoker
Departs last.
"Filthy ****."
Thank god we
Don't breathe
The same stuff.
We're clean.
Somewhere above,
A pigeon spirals
From the soar,
Falling limp to the road.
Black tar -
The smoker
Departs last.
"Filthy ****."
Thank god we
Don't breathe
The same stuff.
We're clean.
Somewhere above,
A pigeon spirals
From the soar,
Falling limp to the road.
I'm not a smoker. But I don't not smoke.
(18/M/London, UK)
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