Car hood at 1 in the morning.

Sitting at the table.
Quietly.
Smoke rising from the knuckles.
Nicotine masking the scent of oh so wretched tears.
Maddening the area.
The atmosphere.
The uncertain complexity of her flannel shirt layering over the windshield.
Passing all those lovely moments of sharing cigarettes on the car hood at one in the morning.


Garrett Johnson.