May 2013
They stand on the corner
By the cross walk,
No matter the weather.
Clothed in black,
Pockets down by knees,
They stand in a circle -
Black sore on the sidewalk.
They stand on the sidewalk
Smoking cigarettes,
Cigarettes drooping.
Almost falling, but not quite
from mouths held in sneers
Mouths speaking jeers -
Black air on the corner.
Eye down,
breath held,
pace quickened,
others,
sidestep,
intimidated,
by those smokin' on the corner.
By the cross walk,
No matter the weather.
Clothed in black,
Pockets down by knees,
They stand in a circle -
Black sore on the sidewalk.
They stand on the sidewalk
Smoking cigarettes,
Cigarettes drooping.
Almost falling, but not quite
from mouths held in sneers
Mouths speaking jeers -
Black air on the corner.
Eye down,
breath held,
pace quickened,
others,
sidestep,
intimidated,
by those smokin' on the corner.
Until I was 10, on my way to school I had to walk through the "Smoker's Corner" where all the high school students who smoked had their morning cigarettes. I wrote this poem when I was 9, and I was absolutely terrified.
