A Twenty Minutes poem.
Mercy, a cloud of smoke
has drifted by the open window
is the back yard on fire
and if so how can that be
and if not the back yard then what
and on such a nice clear sunny afternoon, too
Rush to the window
nothing in sight
the neighbor is smoking a cigarette
out on his patio
for goodness’ sakes
smoking is bad for you and will kill you
doesn’t he know that?
I am disgusted and walk away from the window
while he continues to move around the patio
and the smoke drifts past the window
which I now have shut.