Cigarette Stick

One rainy day
I heard it
in the rain

as droplets fell
circles formed
rippling melodies
mixing with ones close by

I heard it
as my eye followed the drop
from the center outwards
so did the capillaries in my heart

They strummed
as each rain drop
touched a string
strummed a tune

I was standing there with my cigarette
burning beneath my curled fingers
like my patience for uncertainty

It rained harder
and the music got louder
I stared at it, and enjoyed as
the rain orchestrated a melody
do’s and re’s and mi’s
along with fa’s and sol’s
la’s and si’s

They were all there
I wondered if they heard it too
as they stood there
with cigarettes in hand
and puffs circling their being
like their thought clouds

“Can you hear it?”

I tried to vocalize the symphony
but it’s has hard as trying to give the 9th
its justice by just humming it

We shared  the silence
that engulfed us, like chilly breezes
on that terrace
with the mechanic motions
of inhaling and exhaling smoke

Their silence
gave way to the song
the rain drops did
in rain puddles
that pertained to me
I puzzled and hoped they’d hear it too

and then I saw him
sitting there
like a maestro
with his own cigarette
orchestrating
a song
with
his
own
death stick

cigarette in hand

it’s a rollie don’t freak out! 

 

 

 

 

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