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MY LIFE AS A SMOKE RING

With a nice cigar
I blew a perfect smoke ring,
And the ring held briefly.  

I considered that focus of energy. 
The energy of a snapping jaw.
The ring succumbs to the breeze:

       Hard-edged blue smoke
       Burns off the hot stick end
       Soft volumes of gray puffed circles 
       Spew forth as the moment calls
       To live out their perfect circle lives
       Then be annihilated
       Unnoticed
       By mere confusions
       In the cool night breeze 

I considered my House
Pieces of life drawn together 
Of more dynamic forces.

Energies which held together Home
Decay
And in the same way the smoke ring is gone.

Copyright © Dalton Moss

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