Summer grays
Walking down the street, eyes aimed at her feet, fingers pinched, nostrils clenched, she ponders of cleaner air, kissing her face as she steps out her lair. A car whizzes past, leaving a trail that does last, making her huff and cough, and wonder with a laugh, "If only I could behold the sky azure, it would be utopia for sure!" Pick up those shoes and go for a walk, you’ll see for yourself and begin to gawk, for it does seem that we couldn’t care, or give “two f**ks” as some may swear, about the toxic sludge we breathe and drink, that puts us on extinction’s brink.