Saturday, October 9, 2010

The Cigarette

The cigarette lay smoking in the road. It was early October and the sun was just low enough now that it illuminated the smoke as it curled upwards, whiter than the gray of the asphalt on this country road. The smoke curled and undulated as though it were rising from a lantern, as though a genie might materialize and grant wishes to the black angus steers that grazed in the yellow field nearby.

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