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Poem

The Last Smoke

    
by Edmund Siejka


I miss cigarettes
Gave them up forty years ago
Holding one in my hand
Wine glass nearby
Made me look sophisticated
Like someone
Who knew the world.

The best cigarette was after dinner
Full stomach
Chair pushed back
Drinking coffee
No one saying much
Smoke billowing  
Toward the ceiling
Vanishing in thin air.

Then the cancer warnings came
The price of cigarettes skyrocketed
The wife complained
Cigarettes stunk up the house 
And I had to admit
Those used butts left in the ashtray 
Really did smell up the living room.

I buried the old Zippo lighter in the dresser drawer
Somewhere between the socks and my favorite T-shirts
And gave up on a reliable friend.

Maybe one day I’ll light up again 
When it’s my last day
Weepy relatives outside my room
It’s then I’ll have my last cigarette
Staring out the window
Thinking not all of my life was bad
And in fact, some of it was quite funny.

Putting out the last butt
I’ll wait
Satisfied,
Even content,
Knowing I had my last smoke.

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