today there is no smog
no hazy skies
the air bitter and cold
handfuls of clouds
hold up the sky
themselves tiny
thin-stretched hands
the sidewalk belongs
to me and my feet
alone aside from drivers
in their shipping trucks
old cars with windows that
stopped rolling up and down
smashed taillights
what might be bullet holes
smoothed over with bondo
even the guys at the
aerospace building
won’t come out and smoke
at the curb today
i make myself walk
faster to warm up
and get the hell off the street
Words and Feathers 
Mate. I know poetry is your bag, but this feels like the opening paragraph of a novel.
I’ve done the novel thing a few times. While I like the long form, it’s really hard for me to stay interested for 50k or so words.
I get that, kinda why I switched to flash. It also explains why your poetry has such a beautiful, storyteller quality to it.