The volcanic young woman
massages smoke through two pursed lips
her nose
sharp,
her hair a false red
and her young eyes
a french and riveting blue.
If she were to battle her lover
sitting beside her,
she would win. He touches her small-of-back:
He,
scrawny,
shares her dark papered cigarette
as they bicker amongst friends
under geranium flower boxes,
the pink ocean sunset glows off the brick
and I finish off my cigarette at the table.
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