When they light up
They look up
And I make sure
I see those eyes
As they inhale
They draw deeply
The smoke
And their eyes
Go deeply
Into mine
The French girls
Are not sure
Where I am from
Or who I am
But they pause
Between early puffs
And talk
Sweet soft French
I search for my
Non-existant
Pack of cigarettes
Feign frustration
Until one offers
A Gitane to me
A smile both ways
Needs no translation
Jeans and heels and flowing
blouses rise
As the Gitane makes its
Way to my table
The French girls smoking
Cigarettes
Carefully remind me of the best way
To light a smoke
As they strike the match,
Take the first puff on full lips
Then hand me the cigarette
With its lipstick
In return, I remind them
Of things
They once thought about,
With now the matches in my hand
Tom Squitieri is a three-time winner each of the Overseas Press Club and White House Correspondents’ Association awards for his work as a war correspondent. He reported from all seven continents, always writing as a voice for the voiceless. His writing and reporting have been published in an array of newspapers and magazines. His poetry has appeared in Ariel Chart, Wanderlust Journal, The Raven's Perch, The Literary Yard, Eskimo Pie, No Strings Attached, Style Sonata and The Griffin’s Inkpot.
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