Smoker's Lounge

In the right corner
furthest from the entrance
a white woman finishes buttoning her skirt
even after her routine debauchery with the company's manager
she's never caught until her other lover walks in on him pulling up his pants

On the other side of the lounge where no one can really see
a black woman's on the phone
pleading with child support to send money
her tears fall below her chin deep inside her painful memories
of a man who could never own up to his responsibilities

To my left I can smell this brother's guilt
he tries to keep it on the down-low
hiding differences of his sexuality
every time one of his co-workers always asks on Mondays,"Where's your girlfriend?"
no response is uttered but his girlfriend listens from the right corner after the white woman leaves

I leave the center of the room to curl up in my corner behind the door
I see my discoveries writing on discoveries from the lounge a little more
invisible from the eyes of others
camouflaged in the smokes of their sins
my quill's ink pours free.....-