the sky was a flat metal 
he could smell the dusky 
smell of a coat discarded, 
damp and full of dust, 
on a bench as he passed. 
and, even now, as 
the wind pulled the hands 
of his scarf around 
in frantic circles 
he thought of the quick flick 
of her hand as she tossed 
a cigarette, half-burned and 
orange with inward fire 
onto the sidewalk