Evergreen Smoke Break

Gabriel Welsch

I watch a guy finish a cigarette

standing next to a Hinoki cyprus

on a rooftop bar, at 4 o’clock

when the only patrons are tech bros 

hunched over Macs

with IPAs still crisp and cold

like a remnant of winter at the edge of the steel chairs

and the smoker stares with the middle distance

of a man who smokes alone beside a door

that only opens one way

into the kitchen where grumbling

and the dinner prep is almost done

and happy hour bites are tepid

and waiting for warmth that only comes 

from being named

in an order somewhere far up on the roof

where you can’t smell the deep fryers

and the man finishes the smoke

and only I can see him

at the hotel next door, 10th floor

behind glass so dark he forgets it’s there

just as it’s easy to forget about him

until you look out where the sun hits the roof

on a day crisp like only spring can be

and you see signs of smoke