The Smoke’s Perspective

I has power. So does you.
They, too, has its stronger points.
But none of them feels quite right.

We’ll stick with it. It became
Aware it was in a street,
Paved but narrow, with brick walls

And fire-escapes crowding it,
No idea how it got there,
But happy to be aware.

It looked down to where its feet
Might be expected to be
But only saw its shadow.

It drifted to the corner,
Turned into another street
Until it reached a window

In one of the walls. It looked
For its reflection. It saw
Nothing but a shadow. Smoke.

It looked to itself like smoke.
There was a body in rags
Huddled on a sidewalk grate

A little ways up the street.
It floated softly that way
Meaning to ask a question,

But when it reached the rag heap
It couldn’t produce a voice,
Couldn't even try to weep.