Poem about Ciggies

Camel: Turkish Blend
Lauren Young

I was working with the coffee,
Spooning it into the brewing basket.
I saw him sitting outside
In a metal chair, smoking a cigarette.
The smoke wafted into the overcast
Air, discharge from a death machine
Like the spirals of black mist from the tube
Of a iron horse train running across
The country, coal eating and belching
Smoke that infiltrated everyone’s lives
And lungs. The bumpy seats, the roar
Of the opaque exhale.
The door to the shop opens, he
Came in and leaning across
The counter, my brother and his
Aura kissed my cheek hello.