Nothing Good Can Come of Smoking (2)
So I'll say it again if you'll say it three times fast
Nothing good can come of smoking
The ever-decreasing lung capacity
The scratching claws that rake out the slender tones of my singing voice
The endless piles of pollution
And burning cinders
And the time I burned my friend.
That was embarrassing. I didn’t even know how to smoke proper.
Like I said, nothing good will come of smoking.
Especially the looks from fathers of young children walking eagerly home from
work
And the ads in the paper that say
“baby sitter wanted!
Female non-smoker preferred!”
Can’t we all just chew some gum?
No matter how hard I try I can’t get the smell off my fingers—
it's always just the fingers!--
The appendages I use for it all—
Well, for writing at least
Which in the absence of abandoned family and health
Has become my everything
I’m not addicted
I can stop when I want
That what everybody says, “They all say”
But not me, I’ll be different,
it’ll take more than febreeze to erase the odor
But it’ll die out soon enough
With my pride
Nothing good can come of smoking
I’ve tried it
Decided it wasn’t worth it
So I stopped it
And in the end, hope to feel all the better for it
But maybe just one more cigarette and it’ll all be over so I won’t have to think
about this anymore…
Copyright © Brooke Wolfe | Year Posted 2007
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