Sunday, January 29, 2012


Temperatures in the teens this morning.

The scent of smoke travels quicker in cold

winter air, there must be a reason for this?

A fifth grade science fact long forgotten.

No one smokes inside their homes anymore.

Peek through the blinds, on my way down

and I see him banging a pack of Marlboros

on the heel of his hand, a custom of many.

Younger ones smack longer, twice as hard

before removing the cellophane wrapper.

Next door, the lady with all the dogs yells

because they’re barking and growling again.

I hear her coughing and know that she must

be fumbling in the pockets of her bathrobe

for the lighter that will start her busy day.

From my kitchen window, I see a big man

in his pajamas, winter coat, and a wool cap.

He puffs away on his Newport, shuffling from

side to side, attempting to keep himself warm.

Days like this must make them think of quitting.


Janxy said...

This is Soo true! I see the same things from my window. Great poem!

Andrea (Andee) Beltran said...

Powerful poem, Larry!

Anonymous said...

nice one. good luck with the formal publishing goal.