marlboro menthol shorts

have i ever mentioned the cops on the main street, i saw one before walking across the street to the gas station, like some meant to be thing, meant to tell me i'm being watched. but like i always carry myself, with pride and a striking look that could turn faces, with such grace and an outfit that screamed yes i'm a 20 year old man on my way for a fresh pack, with the old used one all crunched up in my hand. i have nothing to hide. it’s not pride that speaks, you see— i know how to carry myself with grace. and ultimately pride. i'm always alert. i'm not reckless. my phone in my hand at all times just in case a crackhead with a knife wanted to test my patience… fingers exactly where they needed to be on my iphone in case i needed emergency services not for me, but for the theoretical crackhead who tried his luck. it is no surprise the cop just turned and didn’t look up. the wonderful thing about gas station runs this late is the elderly gas station employee who couldn’t ID a 20-year-old with nothing to lose, or simply couldn’t read well enough to know i was a boy on a mission. or maybe he didn’t care. but i care. so deeply. that’s why i trashed my old Marlboro in the bin along with anything else i needed to discard. i lit that cigarette just after crossing the street and like a story… i let my words do all the talking. i let my mind have peace for a second. chain-smoking my cigarette, barely pulling it away from my mouth. it was like destiny had sealed my fate. i didn’t even look back to see if anyone was slow tailgating me— i didn’t have to. i know how to be invisible in the shadows. i’ve had to learn how to be for as long as i can remember. that should tell you everything. and still, when you shine a bright light at me, i don’t let the light touch me and don’t squint at the thought of being seen. i let my eyes and body do the talking. i’m well-calculated and always on high alert. drugs? maybe they help a little. but i can never be too cautious. the night is young and full of eyes.