Smell of Smoke

Paul lights up the cigar, stolen from where
the field boss left them. He and Jake take small
drags, letting smoke fill the mouth like nectar.
 
Later they drink whiskey for the first time.
The bottle snatched and drained from the liquor
Cabinet in Paul’s house. They are fourteen.
 
They’ve missed three straight days of work. They prefer
to visit girls at two in the morning
and kissing on the bench at the mall. Four
 
nights without sleep and the world is hazy
like stolen cigar smoke clinging to their
hair and shirt. Pilfered whiskey
 
in their blood. High school starts again before
long. An end to fields and dirt and rain. By
nightfall, they finish the pack of cigars
 
and buy cigarettes to replace them. The
stereo blares in Paul’s basement, mother
and father gone somewhere. There is only
 
the music of Rush and a craving for
nicotine and the wish to cradle the
possibilities. The smoke meanders
 
inside, but they don’t notice, already
used to the clouds and the gray fog cover.
 


Originally published in South Ash Press, ​Volume VII, No. 9. May 1997