I came across this poem in the Writers Almanac the other day. I am always amazed at how poets can slide so seamlessly from the profane to the sublime.
Young Man Lighting Up by Raphael Kosek
The young man paused just long enough to cup his hand lovingly around the cigarette lighting it before stepping out into the clench of four-lane traffic weaving his way among us as I watched him slim and confident, bent on reaching the store across the street, careless with the surety of youth, and I can only assume he reached his destination as I didn't hear the screech of brakes or bray of horns as the light turned. The following day I recalled him with longing, something connate, and he grew in significance because it was so insignificant—precisely why I kept seeing him doing what we all do cupping our hands around the thin flame of something we nurture for good or ill as we step into the world's thrash—confident, fully believing we will reach the other side.