PiP (Remove filter)
About Jamaica
He lights his cigarette, I prepare to share it,
just so his lungs could see less tar.
He’s in a reflective mood; I can tell by the way
the flame emerged from his lighter
red and tenderly squirmed like a worm in a furnace.
He holds my gaze as the flame faints back in its tank
drags on the cigarette, slowly tilts his head back.
I ever tell you the story about the mang...
Wednesday 24th February 2010 9:08 am
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