The Scent of Cigarettes (#2)

The scent of cigarettes
could have reminded me
of Free Spirits passed
between friends
as we philisophized
on world peace and free love

Or smoke breaks
behind Roman bars
and the Irish boys
I kissed there,
hand-rolled fags
still fresh on their breath

But instead I picture
sun-filled picnics
at Blue Slide Park,
and lazy drives listening
to your boyfriend Josh
crooning across the car radio

Or chilly nights
sipping hot cocoa
on the porch, enchanted
as you explain the stars
constellation by constellation,
puffing your nightly fix

Even the illegal ones you snuck
between morning chemo
and afteenoon radiation
My lungs are gone to shit anyway
you mumbled once,
and smiled through the smoke.

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