By Michelle Fessler
Hidden
under the porch light with
no one watching.
This is her escape.
She indulges in her luxuries:
a half-empty carton of Marlboro Special Blend
and a bottle of Pepsi that’s gone flat.
Her eyes are distant.
The smoke rises into the night.
It has carried her with and
brought her somewhere far, far away.
I think she is happy.
Maybe I should stop asking her to stop smoking.
Clamor 