smoke & brood
on the front stoop
the phone glows
hunched over
the days fold
like bended spoons
the moon a joke
i'd rather forget
once there was
a kite that flew
a song to sing
now there's only
time to kill
within the house
or on the stoop
or in the car
6:00 AM can't come
soon enough
pack the pipe
with leaves of void
blow up the block
in the AM
with a scream
there'll be
time again
tomorrow night
to smoke and brood
and think
about the day
to come
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