cigarette

The cigarette stank of raw asbestos as it dangled from her all too green lips. One wondered what she would do with herself after the parade was over. true enough, it had been going on for well over sixty years without a brake for the martching bands or the juggling clowns with wings flapping tirelessly among the shit covered pigeons. true enough, she was only the souvenir girl, but she needed money for her cigarettes, and wobblely globes of snow covered ghettos in a bottle was all she ever knew.