You Ignite, I Smoke, and You Eat My Dirt

I’m calling you just because I want to smoke. No lighter? All the same. You light it. I smoke slowly, relishingly, and blow the smoke directly into your face. You swallow my spit, lick my high heels while I ignore you. Then I throw my ashes on the ground, and you lick them up. Clean, obey, disappear. You are nothing but useful.