if you would,
a single speck floating in the deep darkness out there somewhere.
I do this sometimes.
I sit on my man-made, concrete balcony in West Palm Beach, Florida;
I smoke a camel cigarette.
Occasionally I look over at the man who lives across from me.
His name is Samuel.
Today he is wrapping gaudy Christmas tree lights around the perimeter of his black iron railing that runs the length of his balcony.
He sees me.
A wave.
I lift my cigarette toward him.
It’s November 2nd.
What a fuck.
Samuel waves long enough to make me uncomfortable.
Old as I am, I pretend to drop my pack.
I milk two minutes out of this act.
I get back into my swiveling bar chair, take another sweet drag.
Drag, Drag, as if smoking was timed, another drag.
I look away from Samuel.
He’s back to wrapping lights.
I turn away from the world
Back up at the large expanse of fire, ice, silence.
I squint my eyes for that speck.
I know it’s just my idea but I like it.
the thought of something smaller than myself,
somewhere out there,
that makes me feel better than the rest of the time.

Somehow secretly knowing that I’m not the smallest thing in this universe.


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