throwing cigarette butts
up towards the disco ball.
their red tips look like
lipsticked fish kissing
the shards of mirrored glass that fit
so clumsily amidst it's sphere.
i watch the smoke catch the light
and i allow the beauty to explode into me.
i feel the airy ways flick at me like tentacles
on a radioactive jellyfish
and i am certain that if anything makes sense,
it is this right now.
the scratch of the lighter signifies light,
and as if a horny teenager
desperate for alone time,
i am highlighted like a fact in a textbook.