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Atmosphere
by Tota LongmireInhale. Exhale. In
The duration of that
Cigarette nothing else
Matters but that rush
Of polluted air, deep
Into my lungs. Exhale,
Blowing smoke into
The atmosphere where
It fades away like all
The meaningless
Interactions of life.
Friends, foes, lovers,
In the end they matter
Less than that rush of
Nicotined air in and
Out of my lungs.
In the end we’re
All just pollutants
In the atmosphere.
11/08/2010 Posted on 11/08/2010
Copyright © 2024 Tota Longmire
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sarah Wolf on 11/08/10 at 08:10 PM Funny... I think similar things when I smoke. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 11/08/10 at 11:29 PM ...you write of the edge, on the edge...a good balance on a sharpened blade of life. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/27/13 at 02:33 PM Loved this bite, smoke in my face. Congrats on POTD!
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| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/27/13 at 04:07 PM Quite profound...good description. Congrats on POTD! |
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