space between the random man
who smells like smoke,
whose body drops closer to the ground,
and me.

air between us.

The bus speeds down the street
as if late for an appointment.

The man’s head continues to droop.
The smell of smoke lightly dances in the air,
wanting to sweep me off my feet.

Compared to the smoke illuminating from people
at the station after leaving work,
his smoke is tainted as it hangs onto his clothing.

space between us.

The clouds are white and thin.

The sky is light blue, but it slowly turns deeper and deeper.
The moon creeps up while the sun slowly sets.

I get up and stand.

There’s finally enough space between us.