Essence of Summer

In a passenger seat of a falling-apart car, speeding away from some`unknown dirty-ass town. The outside wind whisking through and rearranging my face and hair and putting out my cigarette. Illuminated from the cast of the sunset, dark outlines of telephone poles like gangily crosses along the empty farmlands and unkempt fields stare down forboddingly.
The orange traces of the sinking sun melded with purple haze of humidity humbles the appearance of everything it casts it's glow on leaving silhouettes in there wake. Sweet wild flowers and prairie grass drowning my nostrils and intoxicating; a tonic of tranquility and of past memories.
Darkness and the sound of night crawlers drowning out the hum of the car. The first fireflies of the season buzzing along the lonely country road like shooting stars, from the side view mirror, overhead in the night sky and within arms reach. No wish comes to mind.

Hangover

I was walking to class nursing a hangover, directing all focus on placing one foot in front of the other in a mechanical manner. Much harder than you think to maintain composure In the light of day when traces of the past nights indulgence are still evident to the naked eye no matter how many cups of coffee you chugged: the appearance of my clothes slightly off kilter, my skin still reaks of gin and cigarettes.

Last cigarette of the night

There something about a cigarette; the way your fingers caress the filter, the way cherry softly glows in the night air, the way the smoke drifts and traces a path of a drunkard like fading footsteps in the sky. It's not all about the nicotine... okay it is mostly about the nicotine.