On the back porch and in the fading daylight I wait
With a Parliament between my lips I let smoke slide
It spirits into the updrafts, quick to dissolve

Around the house, against the brick wall
Metal dumpsters freshly emptied, having smoldered all day begin to cool
The wet rust smells just like sucking on a penny tastes

I hear your bike rounding the corner
Tires hitting the cobblestone
Throwing sound up the sides of the alley


And in my chair, so far removed from that day I can hear now
The grease on your chain and the grit in it
Little bits of dirt from all over the city affecting the sound

My empty room is full now and with a bulging heart I can look back
To see you coming around the corner With the smile of a child
Almost unable to stop, your little legs off the pedals

I’d frame you, people would surely buy you
Instead I’ll treasure you
Try my best in writing to hide you