Smoking a cheap Pall Mall menthol
on a rainy night walk.
It’s the kind of night that has been absent
from a hot and miserable summer
of too much dry air
and the unending sound of spinning fan blades
on cheap drug store fans.
I contribute to the evening’s downpour
and chuck the last half of my cigarette
into a puddle
then I light another
because the evenings clichéd ambience
isn’t complete without me pushing out
clouds of acrid smoke that will hang in the air
fall like mortar rounds and blow them apart.
I think about you
because I always think about you
and what you’ve said to me
just a few hours earlier
how we were meant to be together
and ride off
because of all that heartache.
I went for a walk in the rain
and thought about you
because the night’s ambience wouldn’t be complete
if I didn’t do all of these things.
Many nights like this:
Walking in the rain and thinking
that all of my paltry solutions
To “you and us”
were washing away
with my half finished cigarette.