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One Cigarette
by Quinlan L GibsonFriday night.
DJ pulsating rhythm.
Bodies sex and slither
one another.
There's been waiting
for tonight.
Thirst quenching.
Stress cleansing.
Killians Irish Red.
Tidal and savory,
like just what you needed.
Simple boys,
and untrained girls,
ignite "fuck me" eyes,
across blase conversation.
Feeling a woman.
Spectacular in fashion garbs.
Sexy...
yet taunting imaginations.
Observing contently,
those desirous for love.
Or the confidential stranger.
Euphoric ambiance.
But night grows weary.
Last call.
And lucky you,
with one cigarette left.
04/16/2002 Posted on 04/16/2002
Copyright © 2025 Quinlan L Gibson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Lizz Scott on 10/31/02 at 07:18 PM You excellently portrayed a night out. Think I've had a few of these nights...Loved the last four lines. Thank god for that last cigarette. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/10/03 at 05:59 PM Evocative imagery message throughout. Superb flow like an ice cold beer pouring down my throat. And a smoke left to boot! |
| Posted by Allan Haslinds on 04/25/03 at 01:54 AM It's funny how we need that exchange of cigarette to initial the ritual, though it is clear what is going on. |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 12/16/03 at 09:48 PM No matter how often this plays across the world you've managed to really capture well the scene of Friday night out. Very well done. |
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