Put out that cigarette I keep saying
even though no one is smoking
and you look at me strangely
and put out your nonexistent
smoke, realizing that you must
humor this strange anti-smoking
creature, and besides what’s the harm

And you there slouching on the couch
blowing smoke rings at the sign above the TV
that says NO SMOKING, you there
Put out that cigarette, and you, Kevin,
jerk your head up towards the ceiling
glare out beyond your house, you
almost catch sight of me, you growl deep
in your throat and snuff the cig in a Budweiser
ashtray, or drown it in a cup of cold coffee
or stamp it out with your boot on the hardwood
floor, and your wife throws a not insubstantial
serving spoon in your direction, disturbing the cat
who, of course, has never smoked, although she
does sometimes miss the litter box on purpose

And you slam your way out the front door,
saunter over to the rosebushes, unzip and take
a leisurely pee, under a sign that says
NO PEEING IN THE ROSEBUSH!
And your neighbor walking by thinking to herself
Doesn’t he know how to read, as she flips her
cigarette into the street, and her dog walking beside
sniffs and thinks, Can I eat this? And of course, he can’t