So, I stand outside smoking my cigarette with the wind whipping at my eyes, making them water. Listening to the trees play their music with the naked branches banging back and forth, while I stand outside watching the wispy smoke rise to the rafters.

My black jacket closed tightly around my waist, listening to the car drive by with it's loud music, because they are too cool. And I stand outside smoking my cigarette, inhaling the nicotine to travel my veins and bring some relief to the urgent craving. Pure silence is deafening but yet sweet in a non-surrealistic way, as I stand there watching the wind blow the leaves down the concrete.

Someone comes outside, quiet as the sunrise, looks at me and lights up. Another one to take a break from the ongoing commotion from inside the prison we call home away from home. Listening to the moronic drones plageurize their own lives for our entertainment seems a small price to pay for a dollar.

I stand there, smoking my cigarette, watching the lights go by from another loud vehicle reving their engines because they are too cool. The dimly lit caveman porch built for us habits creaks as the wind blows beneath my feet. Putting out the fire, to turn and walk back into my prison of no escape because of a dollar, bartering days are over.

09/20/2001

Posted on 09/20/2001
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