The Man Who Smokes His Cigarettes

I found him on the corner of Central Ave.

He just stood there smoking his cigarette

Making little white ghost with each exhale

Creating more clouds to shade the earth

He knows I'm watching, he's no fool

Grinning like a fool, I take steps closer

I breathe the musky scent of burnin' tobacco

Yet, he still has not noticed me

I shuffle awkwardly, begging for his attention

Yet he remains still, focusing on the light

Staring with his starry eyes at the people passing by

My nails dig into my skin, like tiny daggers

"How can you be foolish?" I say to him.

"I stand here aching for attention, beg forgiveness,

Yet you stand there puffing away,

Attention on others, making clouds for no one."

"Child," he said to me in his silky calm voice.

It is you who is foolish, Not I.

He removed the cigarette from his pale, chapped lips

Flicking it down the city sewer gutters, swimming down a stream

“You ask for forgiveness when you don't deserve it.

Ask for attention like a spoiled child in a Christmas play.

Little do you know, that with every draw I take,

I breathe in your troubles, your losses, your doubts.

They poison my lungs just as they poison your mind,

But yet you doubt me, my love is for those who follow,

With no Doubt, yet you doubt everyday. For this I abandon you."

And with one last puff..... he was gone.