Monday, November 21, 2005
The cigarette end
A cigarette end lies there. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. I walked past this morning. Still there. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. It rained last night. A little wet ash bleeds onto the street. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. I pass it every day. A little speck and its shadow. Nothing ever changes. No one ever notices. Why do I care? It’s just a little speck and its shadow. Rest in peace.
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