One of a dying breed -
an elegant smoker - you lean
casually against the wall
and watch the dance-floor
through the mirror.
You kiss your girlfriend
and whisper a smokescreen
of lies, while you reflect
on another woman.
Your girlfriend keeps
a voodoo doll in her purse -
savage with pinpricks.
Smoke burns her eyes.
previously published in Anon Magazine and in my pamphlet Unthinkable Skies
