The air smells like cheap beer and cigarettes,
And
The only thing dirtier than the sand we're sitting in
Is the water we use to rinse off
The residue from our high-class attitudes.
You lay in the sand, waiting to go home.
She waited for someone to buy her
A plastic cup of watered-down liquor.
He waited for her to go away,
And they waited for a reason to cheer about something.
You pretend to think of this as fun.
No.
This is a time for me to spend 4 hours
Lying on my back, staring up
And watching everything grow dark,
Then dirty.
And as the light starts to carve snakes in the sky
You stare in wonder,
Dazzled in its resplendance.
I stare in relief.
Because
As each life explodes;
White blood, spattered in the sky
The last remaining cinders
Will fall weightlessly through the black
And drown,
Sucking the cold into their charred lungs.
And I couldn't be more happy for them. |
Submission Name: THE LAST REMAINING CINDERS
