Smoke Trick

The electrified nicotine makes the water
taste colder and my words become dirt
as the smoke escapes
the corners of my mouth.
A pair of shredded pants
hang over the cross bar
of a street light and make
the shadows move
as if someone’s walking by

Train brakes cry like owls
with their red sparks
shining just enough
to pay tribute to the friction.
A burning cigarette hits
concrete as it’s flicked
out of a moving car
and flashes like a firework
with no sound and without greater
crowds beholding it.

There is no moon tonight
but stray dogs howl
at a pair of painted breasts
across a billboard by some state route
no one even knows about
and it is selling someone matches
but that someone never shows,
and I am lost out here,
and can’t find my way home.