Upon giving a cigarette
To a woman whom had been crying
Because she had been caught
Taking food from a buffet line
Where we were both employed

"James, you are a saint, you are always giving when you have so little"
She said with a wet eyed smile.

I am far from it
It will take more than shifting cigarettes
To save my soul

"Truth is"
I had told her
"We are are only Saints
In photographs and in
memories"