Smoke

I have immensely enjoyed
every cigar and cigarette and cigarillo that has ever
given me an excuse to stand on a street corner
Paris, France or San Francisco
Kettner Ave in San Diego
anywhere the red light of America
– or to squat
in my garden
in a light rain
to inspect my arugula
and to the see the first strawberry
of spring bursting from the box planter

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