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Camping

Es­capril 2019
Prompt: when the party's over


Birds chirp my sleep­ing ears awake
As I step to­ward the fire pit.
Early morn­ing air cool in the lungs
Smells of smoke
As I look at the ring of chairs,
Now empty,
And empty cans around the fire pit.
I take one still-​mostly-full can
And pour it onto the ashes,
Now cold,
Just to see them bil­low.
I no­tice my chair across the fire pit,
Empty like my day.
Time to fill it.