Cigarette Break

A dark alley across from a graveyard. 
"Make me be tall," she says. "Make me real tall." 
A green raincoat and steady regard. 
A smudge of smoke and haze against the wall. 
"At noon," she says, real slow, "a woman runs, 
does laps around those graves." Eyes closed,lips pursed,  
her fingers toy with the raincoat buttons. 
So much unsaid. Silent urging... you first. 
I look at her and smile. It starts to rain. 
Her cigarette goes out, faint hiss. She swears. 
I hate the scent of spit-stained nicotine 
and wasted words in sync with empty stares. 
"I'll be your muse," she says. I look away. 
"I'll write you in, real tall," I say, "Someday."