THE LAST CIG FOR TONIGHT

Last cig for tonight.

At the end of Higgins street.

At that old railroad stop

station.

There’s some electric restaurant motor hum,

the hiss of the air compressors to the train getting ready to depart, and my sniffle.

Look up

see blackness and shiny white dots.

Look down

see my feet

soaking, and I can feel

a blister on the ball of my left foot.

At least one heal of a sock

has stretched into a big worn out hole.

Going to have

wet raisin feet for the

rest of the night.

Wind always seems to blow smoke

back at me and into this sweatshirt. Me and

this grey hoodie sweatshirt are going to go through a lot.

Could be a short time.

Could be a long time.

Either way we are going to go through a lot

in this life.

Maybe a book.

Maybe a wife.

Maybe a heroin needle.

Maybe none of these things.

Either way I'm here living life and

the world around me is living its life.

Two girls play with a skateboard ten feet away from me.

Not concerned about me.

Enjoying the fun of just

rolling down some steps.

A good draw into the lungs,

Flick the butt at the lamp post.

Go back to the apartment.

Eat some cake.

Drink the wine.

Live in this life.