Movie Cigarettes

I have never ended my sexual encounters with a cigarette,
But the image is somehow appealing,
Not literally, but metaphorically,
Or theatrically. It's how I'd want myself played in a movie.

I'd want the crowded late night movie to see
Some traditional closure, in what would be
A terrifically edgy, groundbreaking film
In topic, cinematography and writing.
Perhaps it would be in French.

All the characters will smoke,
Because it's a sin you forgive movie characters,
Because you don't have to smell it, all you know of it
Is how cool it looks, how glamourous the two lovers are
Smoking in bed after a (thematically and narratively important)
Round of shagging.

Then, of course, my character would have to smoke always.
He'll be a chain smoker, tragically handsome and deep,
Brooding and forever slightly hidden beneath the brim of his hat.
There will be a scene in which he learns of some tragic, existential event,
And soothes himself at his typewriter with cigarette after cigarette
As he gazes (with swelling, uncomfortable thematic music to underscore it)
Out across the Seine.

Before the credits roll, he will finish his cigarette,
And wander down a narrow boulevard,
Pondering his fate in this weary world,
And tossing the butt of all his old, non-cinematic selves
Into the gutter.