Draw in deep the summer, late
night. The artificial sweet
of tobacco- sugar faintly hits
your tongue- grinds its body
on the walls of your cheeks.
Parting lips, it's too late for
guests to stay. Perfume hesitates
at the door, rocking back and forth
to the signs of "leave."
You usher them out, ghosts
in the night. As wisps
of them turn back for a look,
they disappear.
You remember, and
you smile.
