The lights flickered up and down the dim avenue,
every flicker reflecting off the puddles on the ground.
For a moment these are the only movements in view,
until a car under the veil of night comes round.
The car that comes to a stop is an old rugged Polara Pursuit,
the door swings open to let out an old gentleman in a black-as-tar suit.
He takes his dormant hands from his pockets to pull a cigar and a light,
takes a second to look around before taking the cigar to his lips and ignite.
The nicotine hits and the tar burns through his mouth and down his neck,
smoke fills the air as he patiently waits hoping he wasn’t given a rain check.
Embers burn off of the cigar into the night sky fading back to the stars,
the distant sound of the road echoes with the sound of passing cars.