Casual

[Written sometime in 2005]

the way i hold a cigarette
between my fingers,
thoughtlessness
taking slow, deliberate
drags, exhaling
the smoke
flicking at the ash
with the tip of an index
finger, not
looking at you
not looking at you
in particular

the way we have
these conversations
without actually saying
anything,
languidly
watching from the
foot of the bed,
i turn and
feel the urgency slide off
and rise
ever so slowly

the way i seem to sit
comfortable
among tidy conversations
or raging debates
neither here nor there
expectant
but noncommital

no grace
or skill
just going
against realtime
mode
no predisposition
to anyone or anything
just a brief once over
then..