cloak by jo robertson i saw you again the other night shrouded in that sickly bar-room light smoking and watching the maudlin band that cigarette held like a gun in your hand when i came in the room you did n't look around the clatter of glasses , a crystalline sound , merged in with the jazz from the sticky floored stage your ratty cord overcoat feathered with age reached out to me now across the jazz and the gloom your haze briefly bloomed as it circled the room i could n't see your face as i walked into your smoke it buried your features like a steel-grey cloak .