she’s a stroller
with teeth
false ones that shine bright
like ill-fitting pickets
behind a rictus of lips
and that particular laugh
heh heh heh Heh HEh HEH HEH
HEHHHH!!!
would work best
around a cauldron
in a group of three
with thunder
beady-eyed chief scrounger
her stroll is always
in pursuit
of an unfinished cigarette
a butt-end that can be manipulated
to provide the elusive last drag
or a light
to get the
puff-puff
damn thing going
on sunny days
the cackle
filters down the slope of the yard
from where she reclines
on the hostel’s broken chaise lounge
and chortles to a private amusement
from the apex position
that commands a view
of every likely location
and repository
for a careless discard
retrieved swiftly
like the bright flash
of descended lightning
while the fag-end still bravely salutes
with the rise of a sinuous blue wisp
oh yes
this is the good life
heh Heh HEH
HEHHHH!!!
~