Smoke

It's pitch black out here as we stand on the porch at the back of my house.  The flare of light from his cigarette burns away a bit of the darkness, and I am compelled to ask him, "Why do you smoke so much? Aren't you worried that you're killing yourself?".  Laughing, he tells me that he smokes because he doesn't want anyone else to take credit for his death.

hellfire sermon —
catching the breeze
from a paper fan

previously published in Frogpond XXXI:1

Comments

[Felicia]

Poignant and to the point.

[janet]

wow, collin. to me, this is "just right." succinctly written, to-the-point prose that successfully draws the reader in... and then that haiku with it!

[janet]

p.s. what a coincidence. Felicia and i were posting at the same time and both wrote "to the point."

[Bill Kenney]

Fine work, Collin.

[Curtis Dunlap]

Masterfully written, Collin. I especially like this line "...flare of light from his cigarette burns away a bit of the darkness...". The 'ku nicely dots the i on the piece.

[aurora]

Ditto Curtis.

[Robert]

Enjoyed.

[Jennifer]

This is really good.

[Claire]

I agree with all of the above.

[collin]

Thanks all. I appreciate the comments and encouragement.