Cigarettes on the Balcony

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.

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