The kid

I stand outside the cafe,
To light my second stick of cigarette,
As all the smoking tables are booked,
And as I take my first puff,
And let it out,
A kid and her mother,
And her aunt,
Walk past me,
And the mother says,
"Don't smoke in front of her at least!"
To which I politely replied,
As if you don't,
When she's around.


And she walked away.
With her sister.
And her child.
Who will grow up to smoke
On one of the smoking tables.
Just like her mother.