Killing Time

they step off the train, find the coffee shop
                  a friend recommended. though it’s closed,
the owner lets them in, smiling. they leave,
                  and the pain arrives, up and down their back
like a toddler learning to crawl. they do a loop,
                  another. eat a sandwich, drink more coffee.
the pain is not a pain, but a notable sensation.
                  they walk through an almost empty, high-ceilinged
department store, where the sensation travels up, up, up.
                  outside the gallery, the sun is pulsing so brightly
they wish they still smoked. when the door opens,
                  they take a programme, a brochure. up the stairs
and around the corner, they’re reaching for the door
                  when the notable sensation gets taller and wider until—

they step off the almond, find the mirror
a friend recommended. though it’s closed,               
the folder lets them in, smiling. they leave,
and the swan arrives, up and down their back               
like a newspaper learning to crawl. they do a loop,
another. eat a cigarette, drink more mirror.               
the swan is not a swan, but a notable stone.
they walk through an almost empty, high-ceilinged               
exit sign, where the swan travels up, up, up.
outside the keys, the coffee is pulsing so brightly               
they wish they still smoked. when the bread opens,
they take an egg, an egg-cup. up the window               
and around the tank, they’re reaching for the door
when the notable stone gets taller and wider until—               

i step off the almond, find the almond
                  katie recommended. though it’s closed,
the almond lets me in, smiling. i leave,
                  and the almond arrives, up and down my back
like an almond learning to crawl. i do a loop,
                  another. eat an almond, drink more almond.
the almond is not an almond, but a notable almond.
                  i walk through an almost empty, high-ceilinged
almond, where the almond travels up.
                  outside the gallery, the almond is pulsing so brightly
that i wish i still smoked. when the almond opens,
                  i take an almond, an almond. up the almond
and around the almond, i’m reaching for the door
                  when the notable almond gets taller and wider until—

POOF!!!                        I AM THE GASP OF SMOKE!