Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Elders

I've seen them,
Sucking on cigarettes
As though trying to draw
More life into themselves.
White haired, and aging.
They glare and blow smoke
Up into the air,
Like they are sending wishes
Up to the stars.

These are their smoke signals.

I've seen them and,
I used to harbor pity for them,
But I no longer hold this
For they are just waiting;
They are waiting to go home.

September 24, 2004


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Elders

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