cigarette smoke,
I am listening to the hum of the fan
blowing the smoke out of the window.

a song playing on my radio.
the sound turned down low,
so as not to disturb those who are asleep.

a fiery new relationship;
while brief insofar
still has me thinking,
distracted from something, this evening.

now, where was I...
I was trying to write a poem.

it was about riding the subway;
the graffiti stained poster
and the well dressed man with the
briefcase at his knees,
who fell asleep reading a book
after a long, cold,
January day.