They Speak With Men Who Smoke Cigarettes

This is certainly not a street for cherry sales—
The owners are wise to keep their prices high
—so the old afternoon shadow fathers feel fine
Letting their daughters out in the streets
To drink up hopscotch, pretend, and play
With handguns, their hands pointed out in the shape of guns.

Though this is all in show,
Like a woman taking off her clothes,
To trick the subtle moist of father’s eye
So his face won’t go the way it did
When mother made him cry.