Sixth Street and Central
St. Petersburg
Sitting on a curb he lights a cigarette
Watching a woman walk by, pushing a stroller carrying a bag full of bottles
A small child follows
Sunlight reflects off of her dark sunglasses
Hiding bloodshot eyes
He hears her sigh, And senses her dark secret.
Cigarette burns in his shirt
Match cigarette burns on his car seat
He only walks on stony ground
Cause he had her name
Tattooed on the bottom of his feet.
Oh how the memories hound.
