Ready for prime time?

Here's a poem that has never seen the light of day except on my computer. I wrote it while sitting in a hotel bar in Bilbau, Spain in the Fall of 2006. I couldn't take my eyes off this man -- yes, he is real -- and felt I needed to immotalize him in a poem.

All comments and critiques welcome.

The Man in the Bar

He sits at the corner table
He doesn’t drink
He looks straight ahead
Or at his lap as he smokes

His hand goes
To his mouth
Away from his mouth
Tick-tock

To his mouth
Away from his mouth
Tick-tock

A puff and then away
Then back
Tick-tock

A puff and then away
Then back.
Tick-tock

He gets up, pulls his shoulder bag
Across his body
He looks down, mutters to himself
His eyes rimmed with dark circles
Look down,
His hand clutches his pack of ciggies
As he walks
Out of the bar

He returns a few minutes later
He sits in the same chair
In the same corner
Clutching a cigar in his hand
He takes the cigar
Out of the cellophane wrapper
And he begins again

Tick-tock
To his mouth
away from his mouth
Tick-tock

He smokes
Until the cigar is gone
He gets up again
He put his bag
Over his shoulder
Clutching his pack of ciggies
And he is gone
Tick-tock.