Smokers Cough

There's that woman again
Buying milk and her cigarettes
Tits hanging out to attract the cashier
Whose eyes have never been north of her neck.
That woman who takes the city bus
Always downtown, never up
To smoke her brand
A pack won't last till tomorrow.
I saw a girl in her once
One that adored a Georgia O' Keefe
Where did those flowers grow cruel and rough?
Behind those tar black lungs and smokers cough.
Doesn't matter to her now
Her garden, dead from ashtray debris
Weeds enveloped the corners
Oh, how she clings to those weeds now.