I wake in the wee hours of the morning,

Confused by the smell of a cheap cigarette.

Faint smoke seems to seep in

Through the window

Closest to the head of my bed.

My mind's eye squints.

I get suspicious.

Why does the idea pop into my thought,

That my neighbor is standing just outside my window,

Smoking cigarettes and watching me?

Suddenly I remember a night

In a tent, long ago, 

From which, when I emerged in the morning,

I saw more than two dozen stumped out cigarettes

On the ground at the side,

Where someone had stood

And smoked and listened to our honeymooning.

I close my eyes

And relax my head back into my pillow.

And to think that now,

Someone is happy 

Just watching me sleep.

-jenn