A black dog stalks the night,
barking over the fence. We gather
around the light like moths in the old warehouse,
sheltered from the rain, but not the cold.
She passes the pipe
to me, the new girl. I inhale nebulous clouds,
but nothing changes. The wan florescence flashes
off my leather jacket.
I never wanted to be annoying,
but she labels me as I attempt conversation.
She takes back the lighter,
her hands like liquid nitrogen, rejecting
any claim to cool I ever had.