A Front Yard In The San Fernando Valley On A Wednesday Afternoon

Remorse flashes and evaporates in the
atmosphere of his eyes
     and like that, I know the black still sea
of him once raged and destroyed all
manner of good.
with a swift raising of my flat palmed hand
no thanks
i say, to his offer of a cigarette.
and suddenly
a foul mouth memory separates us
Sit down
I point to the chair,
enjoy your smoke, I’ll see you inside
when you’re finished.