She steps out A winding wind sneaks through the closing door I watch through the wavering glass she slips from her pocket a light for the dry cig, sitting ever so precariously yet balanced I watch Smoke spiral up from her unsmiling mouth He steps up besides her and lights less precariously Smoke curls from his lips slipping past dead skin hanging I watch Smoke lit by neon dissipate into the dark I watch He presses his mouth to hers She crushes her cig underfoot stepping back in She brings with her a shivering chill The smell of stale smoke offered to the night I cringe