Night, Fog, War

 

You, sir, are no gentleman,"

My poem said.

I lit two cigarettes

One for me, one for him.

Two on a match.

 

"Just like the movies,"

he said.

 

"Well, she's gone," I said.

 

Night.  Fog.  War.

 

"Of all the gin joints

in all the towns in all the world,

you had ..."

 

"Shut up," my poem requested.

 

"Let's just go."