Earlier on that evening,
I was born of the waves
crashing into a rocky coast in California.
Sea foam kissing tan layers of shadow
and the gray beards of very old men
with very old blood that has fossilized
in the broken wine glasses of silicon dioxide.
I rode with the wind to the East
to kiss your lips.
Have you smelt me this night?
I go in and out of the houses of Pompeii,
the fallen atriums,
the burning alters,
and temples where you sleep.
To make quiet sacrifices
in your heart beating.
I am nicotine.
the town is vacant, wasted,
everywhere there is an echo –
the wind delivers me like Pegasus.
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