The smell of cigarettes reminds Me of my father, but not The thick chemical smell Of most cigarettes, no he Smokes an all natural brand: Oxymoron Lights. Which will still **** you, but They smell so much better. I used to hate that habit of His, but now I know it's More complicated than the Addiction they warn about In health class.
Kindergarten was the first Time I learned about tobacco, Properly. The teacher asked: 'Whose parents smoke'. My tiny hand shot up with Eagerness, pride even. She had those of us with Our hands raised get our Jackets from their hooks On the wall. Our classmates Took turns smelling our coats To determine whose smelled the Most of cigarettes. The winner A small blonde boy who's name I don't remember, only his Brown leather jacket and the Stench so strong it has stayed With me fifteen years later.
I know now that my pink Puffer coats lack of odor Was a sign of my fathers Good character and love. I know now that he is not Perfect. That he carries a Life time of pain and regret Behind his eyes because he Thinks that I can not see it there. And that cigarettes are a much Lesser evil than the demons that Haunt his past and the he will Not let them haunt my present. I know all of this now, but Back then I just wanted To smell like him.