One Too Many

I'm back to smoking Reds again,
because the summer nights are
so short now and the begging air
chills floating on moisture.

Maybe my conscience gained more
traction, feet tired, lost in
the fight for balance
but there is new ground to be discovered.

My surroundings are drifting, gaping
and individualizing their complications
like how flakes of snow
separate from the clouds.

The dull is in new light this night,
returned in its proper slot
to this unfocused eye singing:
the past is smaller than ever.

Who owns
what? I can
never tel