under the viaduct

[thosehooves]

the moon peeks out from behind the clouds,
and i hide under the crumbling truss of the failed railroad.
the rainbow sheen on the puddles makes my hands feel buttery.
on a bed of gravel and bottlecaps, i lay on my belly,
and smoke the oil stained half-cigarette i found.

the filth behind me rustles.
"Hey, buddy," the shadows drawl.
"Wow, you must be some kind of loser
wasting your time with a lady's smokable.
Men of success? Smoke cigars."

the sky is only getting brighter,
and i look at my blackened hands.
"Are you stupid?" asks the ham-colored goblin man
emerging from the black. his head was covered in thin sprigs of cheddar-colored hair.
he puts a penny-sized hand on my shoulder, and leans on me as if i were a wall.
a large insect cocoon dangles from his lips.

my voice breaks through a wall of phlegm.
"i used to smoke cigars."
his wrinkled, squinting face did not change.
"Deals are my art form... I like making deals." 
he steps back and opens his skinny arms warmly to me.

"I have featured and will always continue to feature
my name prominently in all my enterprises."
he told me as he tried to hand me a long rock
with five runes scrimshawed into it.
i slowly took it and rolled it around in my palm. 

"A lot of people like me, and a lot of people don’t.
That’s okay, because my brand is solid and so am I.
I can take the negative commentary because
the positive impressions are so superior
to the reports of the detractors."

"this is a rock." 
"I've never smoked a cigarette in my life," he goes on.
"I've never had a drink, never had a joint, never had any drugs,
never even had a cup of coffee. So, those are some good things about me."
"this is a rock."