Walking down the avenue,
admiring how my cigarette smoke
mingles with the snow.
Gentle wisps rising,
quiet kisses falling,
but they meet midair
to dance.
I could watch this silent beauty
for days, until

a wrinkled old man closing up shop
scowls at me.
"Those things will **** you, lady."

I pause.
Shocked at the sound.

"That's the plan," I mumble,
and clumsily stride away.

The snow keeps falling
but nothing sticks.