Once inside our
green checkered cab,
Jake Huānlè tells me
these are the cigarettes
Mao himself smoked
as he passed through
the Gate of Heavenly Peace—

I take the flashy gold pack,
smack it against my palm;
packing them in just
like you showed me
once in a past life—

Xiǎng yào huǒ ma?

The taxi driver twists back
and offers his own lighter
with two hands as a gesture
of respect that would be
rude not to accept—

yào, xiè xiè

I cup my hands he lights, take
my first long draw until
cheeks touch teeth, then
exhale white smoke
as he pulls out onto
the expressway—

feeling your far-off tug
once more—

Andrew Slugantz is a writer & teacher from Louisville, Kentucky. As a student of traditional Chinese poetry, he writes on the experiences of love, loss & the anxiety of separation. He is currently pursuing a Master’s of Fine Arts for Creative Writing at Spalding University.