in the rain a cyclist passes
unprepared for the sudden showers
an orange ember glowing
at the end of his cigarette
petrichor and marlboro lights
and i am ten
and the streets are wet
and black except for the
sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps
home has that familiar smell
and nicotine-stained curtains
Words and Feathers 
“sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps” – excellent in both imagery and alliteration
Thanks! I like that line, too.
I can feel this poem and smell the smells, cigarette smoke. It really grasps with the senses. Wonderful!
Thank you so much. I grew up in a house of smokers, though I’ve never had a cigarette myself, and I find rather than being off-putting, the occasional scent of a cigarette is very calming.
Beautiful. It actually reminded me of childhood somehow.
It’s something about being in the dark in the rain that instantly throws you right back. At least, for me. That and the smells.