Sic

I step out to smoke a cigarette,

and I realize I’m up for the last sunrise of the year.

I’m thinking about how dirty the Jersey air is,

and the colors of twilight creep on me.

The sky is dirty,

but there’s life sleeping in the trees and shrubs.

I feel like I’m Janus in a mirror,

like birth is ahead of me

and rebirth is behind.

I’m all weirded.

Then this white-tail fox

walks through the yard

coming within about 20 feet

watching me take a drag

doing its thing,

and I’m just doing my thing,

and it passes,

and I hear a squeek in the bushes

where I watched it go.

I figure I should write a poem about it.