Rising Clouds of Grey

You see it everywhere:

Exhaust coming out of a car,

Hurdling puffs of debris

Inch closer to the open

Driver's window behind.

It does not affect the driver, though,

For he is amoking:

Long exaggerated breaths

Of oozing grey blurs.

So many that the gasping driver

Starts hacking,

For his brittle lungs are weak,

And crashed into a

Telephone pole.

Whimsical flurries of dark

Clouds rush into

the light blue sky.

Now that driver will

Be late for his friend's

Bonfire party.

It's her birthday,

And he even bought a gift.

He will miss her

Blowing out her candles.

The smoking driver will miss

His best friend's

Birthday wishes.

And soon, that driver

Will drive home,

Leavign a trail of

SMOKE

Behind him-

Only to ruin somebody else's

Birthday Wishes.