A young
blonde
stands
on the
corner,
waiting
for her
ride
home from
work.
The sun
shines
onto her
hair,
soft
and
immaculate.
I see
her
from the
corner
of my
eye
and blow
a cloud
of smoke
into
the air.
My shoes
feel
old
and damp.
I keep
walking.
She gets
into
a car
and drives
away.
You can't
always
get
what you
want.
