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I Do Not Smoke, But Their Smokes Make Me Smoke

I do not smoke
But the smokes smoking from
Their cigars
Make me smoke,
The trails of smoke
Twirling up above,
The cigar held in between
The fingers,
Puffed with style,
Embers blazing,

Ashes shaken off.
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Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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