This Bar is Now Non-Smoking
It’s not quite my hundredth day
without a cigarette and
I still miss the companionship:
friends huddled together
around bar doorways until
the glowing embers danced too
close to the lips. Fingers stained
burnt umber, dry and cracked,
smash the butt into the wall.
Conversations that are
important never happen
inside bars. But at the fringe,
you can still feel the heat from
inside, still hear the bouncers
laughing and sometimes the
hard crack of a pool cue as
it strikes. At the fringe stand
the philosophers. The nihilists.
No denying nothing.
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