AS THE WIRLD SPINS
The cigarette burns like a small clock
between my fingers,
counting seconds the city forgets.
It’s late enough that the world pretends
it’s asleep,
but I hear it spin anyway
a low hum under skin and pavement.
Dogs bark in their dreams or at ghosts,
chains clink like nervous thoughts.
Somewhere a car slides past,
tires whispering secrets to the road,
headlights cutting the dark
into honest pieces.
Streetlights lie the way all lights do
steady, yellow, promising safety
while showing just enough
to keep you awake.
Smoke lifts and disappears,
like it never meant anything,
like it didn’t just sit with me
through another minute
of being the only one
who noticed the night breathing.
The cigarette shortens.
The world keeps turning.
I stay still long enough
to feel it happen. I whisper GOODNIGHT to earth as it turns, this cigarette burns so I let it yurn for another hit, I tell myself don’t quit. Goodnight earth I whisper again.
#My city #EarthSystems
