a packet of camels

I want to be alone walking down the street
in the summer, somewhere where it is still summer,
light a cigarette, unattached to the consequences, and ponder.
maybe just for a fraction of a second I could be free.
nobody would see me and I would see no one.

I would wear only a white t-shirt, a pair of old washed denim, and sneakers.

a wristwatch, my hair down, untamed.

I'd look like everyone else, a faceless crowd, a nameless person.
this desire of being invisible, where does it come from?
would I feel closer to the almighty if I was no longer visible to the rest?
maybe the dead don't come back because there's something so enchanting
about the newfound eternity of freedom–
I could choose, of course. I could always choose to disappear.
what holds me back is exactly the same that doesn't let me
light the cigarette.