American Spirit

I thought I could find you between my fingertips 

With every inhale, I would breathe you in 

Each time, the familiar taste would remain on my clothing, in my hair, upon my lips. 

You would give an enhancing buzz that my mind would continue to beg for. 

Each time I would flick you away, you would light up with a growing intensity 

Until you burned out

And until your ashes grew cold

And by the time I could remember to look back to ensure you did not catch fire, 

you would be gone, 

miles behind me,

 adding to the ever growing population of litter.