Like a Kite

Like a kite

In the dark,

I have a spotlight on an orange glow.

Where true colors show like burners on the wall in the streets,

Parallel but not strait.

I used to smell of teen spirit and contemplation,

Now I'm worried for vacation spaces between the green and purple screen of my door.

The side door we use more.

I walk out twice a night or four

For a cigarette,

Smoke weaves and silly scents to help me make sense of this.

I can sense a shift in the winds tonight.

Why do you feel like an orange kite?