On this cool summer evening, I smell
hot rubber and deisel fuel
and I don't know where it comes from.
But in this easy breeze when my body
doesn't fight any element,
I breathe it down, good or bad,
and take it as the scent of my city
doing the ugly work it does
everyday, this one too, where I'm
sitting outside in the damp gray air
blowing kisses with every slow breath.
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