That starry moment
when she slid a menthol out
to the marylebone

balcony & did
brighten her face all cheeks
& golden glory—

leaning carefully
angled the edge of rusted
green-peelin iron

to inhale exhale
an exact amount of smoke
accenting the scene

for her beauty that
brought me to look & softly
weep my sadly smile

of unusual lust—
her decorated lashes
clear light pollution

so’s not to cloud sweet
jaw outstanding above the
beeping horn traffic;

infatuated,
I thought nothing more perfect
: the only reason

why I woke up on
the twenty-ninth of april,
her for her just her.