Inch Fairy

October 22, 2015

I wonder what’s it like to softly twirl a ghost cigarette tween my fingers and rest it dangling on my lip, moist as your name, imagine you, an inch fairy with frail wings, skipping from one smoke circle to another until you become one with the soft vertical cloud halos, now disappearing from light, ascending to air, a thoughtful figment on this wry, thoughtless day.

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