Sameen Shakya
The Sewer Rat
We rain dogs huddle together
under the awning of some bar door
passing around a single cigarette
among the five of us and my eyes dart,
at L, who lights and takes the first puff,
singing compliments about this girl he met
yesterday at some library, god knows
he’s got clean enough clothes that they won’t throw him out.
She was reading a book on chemistry, and he
asked if she could see some between them.
It worked. M laughs the first and I eye
as the cigarette passes to his lips. A says,
“Well, is there?” and they all laugh. I just
want the goddamn cigarette passed to me.
O asks me when did I last eat. “You’ve got
this look on your eyes” as A takes his puff.
The seconds pass without a sense of urgency.
Finally, it gets to O then me. I can taste it.
The smoke filling my lungs. I’m gonna savor it, but
as O passes the dying cigarette to me
the rain fueled wind blows it away,
and it lands on a puddle to be bulleted by rain.
They stand silent as I walk off.
O calls for me but my hoodie drowns him out.
I slink into an alley as a rat in a sewer
to be drowned. Maybe I will too.
I just wanted a goddamn cigarette.