Been Dirt

Sitting

on a porch,

quiet midnight

in Florida.

She pours 

vodka

into a glass

of Coke;

stars shimmer

like

lost diamonds

in the

midnight sky.

I hear

the sound of

her voice,

the sound of

her dreams.

I press

a plastic cup

to my lips

and take

a swig.

We have

nothing

and 

we want it all.

Her voice sings,

soft and

steady,

and on

and on.

I light

a cheap cigarette

and let

the night 

fall

all over me.