Spiraling clouds of swirling smoke dances through the air,
high on its tip-toes with perfectly pointed feet
and pink ribbon strings.
It dances around me,
filling my pores with the same tip-toe high
and its spicy sweet scent.
The ribbons entrance me as the spiraling strings
leave a small breeze on the back of my neck.
My hairs stand up from ecstasy of this high,
that I wish would never end --
I flick my lighter again.
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