Waft through a wand of light into the shade.
You are smoke pulled from aged coals . . .
thick with the aroma of steak well-seared.
Hailing from the grill, slither
between the neigbouring brownstone,
under the quiet arbor of hefty trees
and downwind go . . .
Waft onto the streets,
Make salivate: neighbours and strangers
Smoke out their minds from their bodies
and lead it charging to a juicy brown patty.