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He stood there in the doorway 
His legs dangled in white shorts 
His blue shirt matching the rags
The mechanics used to clean tools
His fingertips yellow stained of fungus
I could barely see his blues eyes 
Through the reddish brown colored
Replacing any hints of good health 
Clutching a Winston banging on a sea burg
he juggled three scantily clad women 
One hillbilly a blonde hick and this 
black chick from Cleveland with no teeth
I hardly recognized him except for
he was still giving orders in this frailness
chanting cigarettes for everyone spare
no expense Marlboros Newport's Winston's 
I never understood the urgency of nicotine 
I watched him light the match pull on the filter
Release the smoke building his confidence up
It angered me I suppose watching him
Commit suicide tossing his cancer meds.
through all my pleading yelling screaming 
he finally got it actually taking his medication 
putting the trash out beating cancer in the end 
closing the shop where his new identity begin

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