Smoke Ring
Sometimes at night I walk to the beach and lie on my back near the sea to dream of good things about my life. I’m a vagabond soul filled with Internet folklore, and the thought of your kiss shines like the stars amidst dark moments.
During the day I hunt for food and fight my enemies with the anger of my early twenties intact. I’ve taken up smoking again and do so with macho style in my red ‘79 Camaro Z28. A glass of Shiraz at lunch was never happier than with me. Handsome bloke, I am.
At home, my sofa should not reek of tobacco, but there lies my body in the afternoon, holding a pillow and smoking cigarette number three next to a cut crystal ashtray on my coffee table. Life, I am yours. Where are you in this poorly decorated tableau? It’s just another day for me.
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
During the day I hunt for food and fight my enemies with the anger of my early twenties intact. I’ve taken up smoking again and do so with macho style in my red ‘79 Camaro Z28. A glass of Shiraz at lunch was never happier than with me. Handsome bloke, I am.
At home, my sofa should not reek of tobacco, but there lies my body in the afternoon, holding a pillow and smoking cigarette number three next to a cut crystal ashtray on my coffee table. Life, I am yours. Where are you in this poorly decorated tableau? It’s just another day for me.
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Image: Valeria C Preisler/Flickr
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Join my page on Facebook: