Wednesday, September 15, 2010

i like my cigarettes

i like my cigarettes and their memories
how i paled and felt green the first time
and walked on my hands and knees upstairs

but how many sunrises with a cigarette and coffee
and how many evenings spread out past the midnight hour
and how many strangers came calling hello and were friends

the cigarette is a death and a life also
where the fork in the road
says no quiz today kid just go right

there is so much tobacco in a discarded cigarette
i need never buy my own
but gather butts and amass a pile of brown gold.

i am a harvester sometimes of tobacco
plant no crops but i go out walking everyday
and gather the buds and take my drags as reward

i am wrought with sadness knowing the day is near
when i must quit and forget even these memories.


  1. awesome. almost makes me wish i took up smoking all those years ago.

  2. had my first cigarette when i was 27 years old. glad i held out but glad i went in. and now i'm on the way out, soon to be glad again.

  3. this is such a beautiful poem and really captures why people smoke (or at least why I do...)

  4. thank you marit. this probably will not be the only poem i write on the subject. until i get zen, my cigarette breaks are the centering moments of my day, where i organize my thoughts and plan out the next two hours.


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