He grew up surrounded by smoke
Raised with nicotine highs
Ash trays and dinner plates
Clearing clouded lungs with bloody coughs
Nicotine and factory smoke whirling together in a cancerous concoction destined to destroy his father
Fourteen years later, the eyes are still swallowed in tears overflowing down the rugged face of a man who has spent more than a decade without his dad
A man who will spend the rest of his life fighting to keep his mother from the same fate
I have made it worse
Deja vu in double, triple
Ash spilled over car seats, mirrors dull with smoke
“You wouldn’t smoke, right?”
I am more like his parents than he. Addictions he fought against, I gave into. It’s easy for me to self-destruct.
Drown me in smoke and I’ll still be smiling.
I’m sorry, Pops.