Thursday, 23 December 2010

Ode to a Smoker (rough)



The match lit;
The room was ablaze
With excitement, and vivacity. 
He raised the small torch to the cigarette:
It glowed.
Control? He was it, and so much more.

Smooth, Sophisticated, Suave;
These words sailed around him
 Like the smoke that danced elegantly from his hands,
As he waved the roll of tobacco
In a studied manner. 

It was a necessity,
Like a bow-tie to a tuxedo; 
It tied him together.
It completed him, and for that:
He was eternally grateful.

He was the cigarette, 
And he liked it. 

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