Ziiiiine

NOT A PRESS

Bus Stop

The Smoker

By Victoria Dym

You stand there/ at the bus stop/ bent with osteoporosis/ your wet lips sucking/ the cigarette/       I watch you/ your face/ the color of dust/ your life a series of bus stops and smoking/ I try to imagine you as a baby/ before/ your mother/ cooing/ cradling you/ before/ before everything about you became the cigarette/ the way you hold them/ light them/ one after the other/ the lighter/ the leather case/ pink with rhinestones/ a chain of smokes/ one after the other/ a pack/a carton/ your idea of glamour/ ashtrays filled on your nightstand/ that morning cig      that calms the cough/ after meals/ your idea of heaven/ gold cross tucked under your blouse/     the death of a thousand cilia/ the tiniest part of you/ unrelenting/ like a silent three alarm
inside/ unrelenting like a lover/

bus approaches/ one more puff/you flick the ash/ snuff it/save it for later/