It started with the atom.
Walked to the Citgo
while the ash hung from the tip
of my cigarette, my life on the edge.
Dripping sweat collected
on the sidewalk, a pool of lost hope.
Bones boiling like a temper
I lit another:
$3.99 for a pack of Cancer
and no one to stop me.
A sunny red Cadillac reflected my black hair
in the mirror of its bumper, its beauty
contradicting my glistening face,
I sat on the curb to ease my nerves,
like a whiskey sour in the evening.
She stepped out of the car like an actress
on Oscar night, a Ms. Monroe in rose,
a face as cool as the dew on a lily
and eyes, soft like wet sand.
I put out my cigarette to stare.
Her smile carried her lips
as if to say,
"you're all I ever wanted."
I stared at the ground:
there he was, winking,
hiding exactly
where we started.
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