Last Cigarette

You woke and the window wide open,
your pillow, all wet from the rain in the night
The trail of a siren,
the red and white neon, a broken reflection, a cry
Just a girl in the alley,
a bicycle bell, and the last cigarette won’t light
You rode to the cafe, your apron,
the coffee, the soft-dripping faucet, the radio news
And joe on the line, all the burns on his arms,
and his girlfriend at home with a yellowing bruise
Just a girl in the alley,
the trash and the last cigarette dropping ash on your shoes
You closed in the quiet, the bleach rag,
the bucket, the bicycle rusted outside in the rain
You rode in the dark, sat and smoked on the porch,
and the neighbor dog barked and the traffic light changed
Just a girl in the alley,
the stars coming out and the last cigarette of the day