staring out

into the city streets.

I spark my lighter

and bring the flame to a joint

in-between broken fingers.

I take a long pull

and breathe puffs of sour ganja

out into the city streets.

A man walked by

and smiled at me.

“Afternoon.”

I heave in another cloud

and breathe white

until my lungs feel like raisins.

I watched the clouds

Pass through two men

fight over a parking spot.

Why do I even try?

I hear a wine glass

shatter on our kitchen floor.

“Ashley!”

I bow my head

and a tear escapes my eye.

“I’m coming.”

I wipe red from my nose

and lock myself

back inside the house.

The joint

still ablaze

on the steps.