No smoking.
We take heed as we step
briskly off the curb, we
take heed as they light up
and take a drag.
Menthol smoke curls out
of noses and mouths, it's
beautiful in its own way.
I breathe in the secondhand smoke
and the cold winter air, refusing-
strangely- the firsthand.
Monday, January 22, 2007
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