Red Head

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?