740. On Smoking

Here's a fun little exercise for this semester's poetry workshop.

On Smoking

We sat against the brick and mortar wall,
When April’s rain ejected a Spring squall.

We rolled our thumbs over the flint and flame,
The fire arose, intense yet short and tame.

Delighted in its warmth we held above
The tip of the heat our nicotine love.

One puff, two puff, oh God we need some more;
The monkey tells us what we’re craving for.

He’s climbed on top of our backs, never will
Let go: until the tar renders us still.