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By Harry Palacio
She lays here resting with her cigarette watching the starless sky through the window frame, meeting eyes from time to time. The quiet filling a violet darkness finding it's way into the room. My mind is worked up about an undisclosed emotion that doesn't seem to come to light,
buds that will never quite see the stars. Tin roofs let copper pendants fall like rain waking the dreaming. If you can leave when you want, if this is only un pasa tiempo, then it may be just that, something to pass the time. Sometimes the starless sky and azure smoke allows you moments that let you know she’s not going to last. I remember walking down to the cemetery for a cigarette so my aunt wouldn’t find out that I smoked. But there's so many brechadores in Villa Juana, Santo Domingo it’s worse than Big Brother, so she finds out anyways. The joke was no one really cared what I did, I was simply asked not to walk so far away from the safety of the house. I never liked the taste of cigarettes in the beginning but I loved taking those long walks with my brother through Villa Juana to smoke under the stars watching the bodegas and different colored houses with people outside, all alive. I suspected I had found something that had something to show me about myself, it was everywhere we went not just on our walks. Years later wishing I never picked it up even though it was a good way to meet women back then.