Lit up

He walked his two dogs while he lit up.
The plume of smoke glows orange in the sulpher.
He holds the rolled up cigarette crooked, but soft.

He walked his two dogs while he lit up.
The big Collie was gentle
The small mongrel was a bit of a shithead to other dogs, but he meant well.
But toffic, the Collie just walked, gentle, soft.
A dog he adopted from a polish man, who was a chef at a retirement home.

He walked his two dogs while he lit up.
His grey hair so thick it was like my Indian granddads.
His face had a ruggedness that cradled his small frame.
His grey hair was in clumps, probably from chemo.

He walked his two dogs while he lit up.
what makes a man flail himself to death with so much violence
but still walk with so much gentleness
a gentleness that seeps not with heaviness but with depth.
a gentleness, that ripples through the texture of everything and nothing.
a gentleness that he carried as his hair fell away in clumps.

He walked his two dogs while he lit up.
as he smoked another cigarette to take a breath from himself.
as he walked this earth with heavy steps of gentleness.
Who will walk his dogs?