Cigarettes

He was smoking outside the pub.

I guess I was into the fact that he

so willingly destroyed a part of himself inside.

See,

I hold onto things.

I grip onto cigarettes but never light them.

I never set the flame.

I never burn things.

I was wearing a ratty old tee shirt when

he came to say hello.

I didn’t expect him to come say hi,

so I didn’t plan my outfit accordingly.

I guess that’s how life is, really.

He put the cigarette in my mouth,

but I wouldn’t inhale.

He’d rather watch my face turn blue

than give me a reason

to wear ratty shirts.

He had outdoor cats,

the type that run around all day

but come home at night.

They somehow know they have a home.

They somehow know they want a home.

Sometimes I wonder if homeless people

have no home.

I wonder if homeless people spend

their loose change

on cigarettes,

and if so, I wonder if they light them,

and if so, I wonder if the smoke

gets trapped in their ratty tee shirts.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s