Mr Winston

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