Crushing one more cigarette into an overflowing ashtray

The smoke swirled gently on a tide of wind flowing through the open window

While the acrid smell of burnt butts create a factory of poison in the air

Floating thoughts in a sea of confusion

She lifts the smooth cold plastic cup of over burnt coffee

Thinking that space in the garbage could be rectified if only she recycled the overused grounds.


~~jules sortor