I sit in a chair suited for a poor king.
Jacket open, wind swirling about
as I light a cigarette and put it to my mouth.
Inhaling what’s no good for me, I ponder
why the pigeons change directions so abruptly
as they follow the wind currents, flying
unpredictably as the the air’s force coerces them.
A feeling of peace enters my nervous system
as I exhale into the sun. Free. Serene. Euphoric.
I look down at the streets below me and think of
how many tiny humans exist from here to Long Island.
How different and similar it would be to live somewhere else.
This little moment of clarity reminds me
that we all take smoke breaks here and there
and there’s no shame in it, even if you don’t smoke.
This overwhelming peaceful feeling
that invades my body like nature’s hippie bacteria
is nothing short of a miracle;
I let my body hang over the chair
and soak in the sun.