might be a poem

Yesterday as I walked my dog past the post office  I saw a woman sitting in her car with the window down.

It was 18 degrees and windy.

She had a scar on her left cheek and she was talking on the phone. 

As I walked by I smelled perfume and stale cigarette smoke. 

The scent tenements have in summer when smokers have lived there for years.

I smiled because the scent snapped me out of wherever I was in my thoughts 

and brought me right here. 

The voice in my head said

This is life baby, don't you love it. This is why it's good to get out and walk.