Cigarette in the Sunday sun
Its cold despite its overbearing presence
the overbearing presence of
planes overhead,
dogs barking,
screaming children loosed from morning service,
grinding steel wheels on a rail road track,
cat calls,
coughing,
laughing,
cussing,
imagined smiling.
The world spins,
tips,
teeters,
and I dance on its edge
songs strangling my lungs.