this morning i watched
a cigarette drop from
the pocket of a man
onto the floor of the
train. it rained earlier
and bits of dew and
dirt drained into the
cracks, but there lay
the cigarette intact.
i could have reached
for this man and told
him how he misplaced
the nail to his coffin,
yet i said nothing and
let him off coughing.

© Matthew Harlovic