Cigarette Break, Sans Newports Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

This weather is perfect.
I could lay bare on the grass and in the sun
To delight in the breeze flying in from the mountains.
My mind is void of music which would hope to bounce around my head,
Obstructing clarity and thought.
I have but fifteen minutes on my break.
I find myself tucking in my shirt and straightening my sleeves
As I re-enter the building and return to my desk.
I wish I was playing soccer.