Kill the Carrier

Something else that I can't do
is pull a smoke from my pack
that's mostly full
using only my lips
like in the movies
and conversations
with men who've got more talent.

One of them closes my knife
before handing it back;
says it would've been bad luck
otherwise, which neither can afford.
I take a proper gander
as he explains the lore.

On the ride home
I open the driver's side window
on the highway
to release a bouncing fly
that doesn't want to leave.
Are there creature comforts left?
I'm asking for a friend.

In my bedroom before rest
I listen hard enough
through the air conditioner
propped in the window
to almost hear those katydids
that she swears New York
is lacking.

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