The Real Thing
This is
your sanctuary
too,
isn’t it,
a young
girl smoking
her own
hand-rolled
cigarette said
as she
walked past
my open
window where
I was
parked on
the hill
in my
van.
She didn’t
stop for
an answer.
She’s the
real thing.
This is
your sanctuary
too,
isn’t it,
a young
girl smoking
her own
hand-rolled
cigarette said
as she
walked past
my open
window where
I was
parked on
the hill
in my
van.
She didn’t
stop for
an answer.
She’s the
real thing.
Filed under poems & short jabs