i sit cross-legged in the grass
highlighting quotes in my book
a girl she sits
down next to me
flips a cigarette from her pack
flicks the lighter once; burns her thumb
hisses softly
her hair is the ***** sun
one, two, three she smokes
determined mechanics of an assembly line
i choke on the smoke,
i choke on her concentration
the pages of my book are yellow with her smoke
yellowed as her hair
i breathe, breathe the cloud
sweetly now
draw fluorescent puffs
highlight the smoke that stains pages
i am focused on my task, she on hers
we sit together and breathe our cloud
small suns wrapped in a halo of smog.