There she sits,
the wayward
recessive one,
burning the combustibles
at both ends,
her flaming red
hair atop the
cigarette she
smokes on break,
blowing away the
risk of emphysema
or worse,
taking all the
chances she can
take in ten
minutes before or
after lunch.
What the hell?
Who’s going to
stop her? More
importantly, who’s
going to offer
her a light?
♥