Glass

Glass   It's glass at the bottom of the lake. You could peer down and never quit seeing the light shining through the other end. All the way, a pin point showing the entrance of a tunnel.   The metal trash can at the beginning of our driveway senses that I'm too consumed in myself to drive and pushes itself in front of my car. I never liked that trash can much.   Simple things that pull the strands of hair from my arms, like glue brushing against me, only griping a little.   Cover my eyes with your hankerchief. I'll still be able to see, but remain disillusioned by the dimness of it.   pure seduction, underlying the scent of greed, when you want me and something else. The smoke pours, inhale, exhale, pause. inhale, exhale. Addiction isn't slowing as I'm seeing you for who you are.   The smile lines are turning to frowns. and I can taste the nicotine on my fingers.   It's not pleasing. It's glass at the bottom of the lake. Dive in and find out where that light is coming from.   See you next summer.