I tally your steps
silently wishing you never catch up to me
nonsense!
There you are
shuffling past a throng of stick figures
in January.
Closer and closer,
you shuffle towards me
boots packed with snow,
hands quivering in what looks like a peace sign
to your mouth.
Is this how you justify that ten minutes ago,
you tossed caution to the west wind
by exchanging your health with dollar bills
and your sanity with nicotine?
You must pay the price for this solo;
there’s no need to drag someone else with you so low.
Without a word
you shuffle past me,
sending thick white clouds from your cigarette
As the stench of your world attempts to blur mine,
I hold my breath.
Our worlds cannot mix.
Swiftly, my hands go into windshield wiper mode
to fix this mess,
your mess.
No, thank you – I don’t fancy black lungs.
10weeksofpoetry 