nicotine chic

By Rebecca Panos

The dart on the sidewalk 

smoke spilling

orange embers glowing

I circle the block.

Why are you still here?

Streams of smoke so thin

Barely visible in the midnight air

Glowing bud,

keeping itself warm inside its roll

Undying 

Resting in the groove of pavement 

Weak

Begging to be put out,

passers disagree with swerving steps

An unheard plea of mercy, 

no one is listening.

Painful,

dying slow.