That toxic cloud

I really don’t know how I got

Sucked into a three-course meal of fake friendship

But there I was

Dropping off that dreaded book I forgot I had

That most evil of invitations,

Let me make some coffee and we’ll catch up

Snuck up on me

Like a custom-made nymph

On the most cunning mountain-stream trout

I can’t really say what happened

Between

The first and the last sip

But I felt my soul

Gasping for breath

As I was yanked out of my comfort zone

Of forgiven bygones

Like a Russian spy

In an English park, carelessly minding

My own, nondescript business

And suddenly

I inhale, again

That

Toxic

cloud.

Author's Note

Painting by Maynard Reece.

Reviews

[Mrudula Rani]

The effects of toxic cloud are usually everlasting, even after ages we still feel the shame like guilt! ( The recent events in the news is a reminder... Russia doesn't forgive its ex-spies).