not sleeping anymore

it's 4 AM and I'm listening to a room full of chain smokers,

wondering why.
I don’t smoke,
but the sound of
a cigarette
pressed hard against wet lips,
swelling,
contracting, expanding at the folds
between the shapely mold
squeezed to fit
each that’s lit,
draws me in.
we listen like shapes
of clouds.
wide. distributed.
barely made out,
recognized at best.
in context
cold tea is sipped
warm,
great ideas are broad
ceramic cups,
and hot air is all that’s needed to
fill you up.

posted by d @ 12:32 AM