“Low Life”

I sit outside.

Wisps of smoke claw at the passing clouds.

Every drag lights up my face; a stranger in the darkness.

The long night.

 

Music plays in the background.

Caribbean drums intermingled with drunken shouts. 

Neighbours laugh, scream, fight.

This is what we call life.

 

Fireworks. A dog barking. Parties.

Kids up late. Parents out pissed.

I flick my smoke and watch the sparks fly.

And I smile at how it all is.