One always likes what they can relate to — good one, River.
The old man sat
Legs crossed, foot bouncing
The blinds were drawn
Summer heat screaming
From the warped floorboards
You could see the dust, each particle
Floating in faint strips of daylight
Terminating along a piss-stained rug
I waited patiently
Struggling to maintain
As the stench assaulted each nostril
The integrity of the chair, in question
As I shifted uncomfortably
He lit a cigarette
Blue rings of smoke danced
From one ray to another
The dust, emitting a strange glow
As if tiny cosmos were being born
And just as quickly, fading into nothing
The Big Bang, right there in front of me
I was a witness
My God, I’d give anything
For a glass of water
He took a long, deep drag
Then snuffed out the cigarette
Against the table
No ashtray, hadn’t been one for years
If ever
He leaned to the left, shrugged a shoulder
Squinted his…
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Becoming is Superior to Being 
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