the ashtray in the kitchen

as Chekov

once observed

while

picking up an ashtray

full

of butts and ashes,

matches,

that here in lies a story.

look,

he said,

there's a tale here,

that

cigarette half smoked,

with the stain

of lipstick

around the end,

and the other

bent and crushed down,

as if in anger.

see what i'm saying?

now go write.