Poetry

Matches

4 October 2016

He is telling me about how he only lights his cigarettes with matches, he will not use a lighter. He flicks the black matches into his empty beer can one by one, unable to stop talking in time to get it to his cigarette. I take the can from him and place it on the ground. Then I light a match and lean forward. His cigarette glows orange, the smell rises up next to my cheek. I put the box of matches in my pocket and crush the can with my foot.

 


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *