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.
