Smoker's Contribution

crackle of hot ash and burning paper
flickering glow of a cherry
pulsating like a firefly in thick July dusk
deep inhalation through dry, cracked lips
the flick of a tongue to moisten these
grey smoke escapes, expelled with the force
of an arid southern wind
cloud rises to the sky and dissolves in heated darkness
a thick, life-roughened fingertip flicks the dying embers
flakes of used tobacco and paper float like feathers
dropped from a molting bird overhead
one last, desperate and disappointed puff to kill it
those familiar fingers drop the butt
it rolls an inch or two
then is crushed by a worn rubber sole
ground into cement that's seen too much of this filth
kicked into a gutter
to await a fifteen year decompostion
just another piece of the scenery lies there
motionless and indelible
on the cracked, life-worn asphalt.




I smoke, but I realize the devastating impact
this addiciton has on the environment
(not to mention those of us living here,
breathing the toxic fumes).
I guess I'm making a statement --
one that may make me seem hypocritical.
But I don't give a damn, really.
I know what's good and isn't good for us,
and the bastard who discovered
how to manipulate this shit
with poisons should be/have been shot.