the wetness of the air was
made obnoxious by the fact
that stale pipe smoke clung to it
like a vine that is merciless in its steady devouring
under the veil of its greenery
unmerciful killing occurring
under the guise of life

the smell of the street’s
garbage left from a few days living
rotten food uneaten
how many others
it is right to ask
would have eaten it nonetheless

it was only the ball bouncing
some kid coming up the street
his hat on loose
his walk casual
he didn’t notice or atleast he did not care
that the garbage
and the fowl air and waste that surrounded him
could not drown out the miracle
of life
bouncing down the street
I thanked his youth
for saving me
for offering me his oblivion