Second-hand Smoker

Even though I don't smoke,
I imagine doing it as a gesture.
I've learned a sign language
of smoke signals from movies
and from movies through friends,
but I can't use these words.
It's a dying language with no
dictionary, like the language
of hats and glasses.

I've practiced in silence when
I didn't have the cigarette to say
"yes" the way I needed to.
If you whispered "Let's
get out of here," I'd pull
my glasses to the end of my nose
and stare you down, I'd draw
my hat down my brow,
and I'd flip my half smoked
cigarette away with that sharp
tap that sends it out
of existence and leaves us
alone and speechless.