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Life in a pillbox
Life in a pillbox:
With dawn i see
the smoke of my cigarette
mixing into
the smoke of a fire lit
by workers keeping warm,
waiting.
Mixing in the pink horizon
the green neon lights from the hills
insisting to last longer than the stars.
The aroma rising from a bakery
sneaking in through gray cement
and bulletproof windows,
distracting me from Kurt Vonnegut words,
forcing my eyes to stare
out of the pillbox
over the fence
down to the village
beneath.
We are afraid of everything.
