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By Lee Nelson
At a gas station near
Susan B. Anthony's house
I was pouring antifreeze
when I smelled rank rotting
garbage.
It was a ripe even the cold
couldn't abate
and I turned toward it
and the filthiest ever
of parkas
contained a man
and he produced a smile
born of dirt
a very cordial smile
sent from the world that
insists our employment
and asked for a cigarette
one cigarette
hands in the air
in peace
in Susan B. Anthony's
dangerous neighborhood.
I reached into my coat
produced one from a pack
and lit it for him.
He pulled a good amber
and blew it away from me
and took another toke
and asked me what I do.
I told him.
He asked me what I was
doing tomorrow.
I didn't answer
and he asked me if I was
winning.
I didn't answer that either
and he said
"When you're doing
whatever you want
every day,
you've won."
Then he walked away
smoking with more passion
than I've ever smoked
a million cigarettes
and I briefly chased him
and gave him
my pack and lighter
and walked into the gas station
and replaced all of it.
I was divorced a few months later.
I quit smoking about a year later.
I'd never in twenty four years
ever enjoyed a single cigarette
like he did.
I don't get to do
what I want
every day.
I'm pretty sure
he doesn't either.
I'm here.
I hope
he's still here.
