Idle Poem by Maria Barcan

It's just me and my cigarette now
Puffing away the evening
While the hot gravel moans, grieving
Under the weight of the Saturday crowd
The hamper lies woefully empty
The fridge, most likely, too
Maybe the sink still needs review
I've had a couple cups, maybe twenty
No, it's just me and my cigarette
Playing darts with the ashtray
While the very last train
Scurries away some kids and a brunette
The clouds' shadow makes an unusual shape
It reminds me of someone's tattoo
Well, it'll be nighttime soon
So that's a thought I should scrape
It's just me and my cigarette, alone
Burning away the midnight coals
(Is that how the saying goes?)
My mind feels hazy and nostalgia-prone
Maybe I should hit the hay
Maybe I should leave this town
Instead I drown
In the cigarette mount
While the night decays