The smoke that fills the chambers

I think smokers use cigarettes as a measure of time

a reminder to breathe deep

a physical way to grasp the size of their chest cavity in the dimensions of the clouds they puff

a visible manifestation of their lethargy

taking shape in the ways thier tar stained lips curve to carve the puff into dreams

as kids we grew up reaching up staring at the sky

letting our imaginations play with the clouds

maybe smokers are just children stuck in an adult filter

they forget the length of the body is not a measure for the soul


you never needed cigarettes to breathe

the sky does not hold a grudge

your hands miss being held up

and your chest has yet to cave in

I'm here.
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