Families and Smoke

Quitting the cigarettes
was always easier
than quitting the smokers.

My friends,
coffee philosophers
beer-bolded pranksters
Saturday afternoon grad students
midnight road trippers all.

Eminently secure in the knowledge
that you could scrounge up enough change
for a pack of smokes
however bad it got, you could always have that.
And that was all you needed
If the car ran out of gas, you could sit
by the side of the road
smoking
until something happened.

My family,
forever over-cooking, over-eating
over-gesticulating, over-talking
forever
stepping onto the porch
for a moment of quiet.

The post-cigarette aura is locked into
my grandmother’s pasta sauce
my aunt’s thanksgiving turkey
incense for every holy day.

My brother and sisters,
together for the first time
in eight years
all grown up now, well-traveled
we are still ourselves
but differently, better, more at peace.

And after dinner, and after after-dinner games
we could stand in the cold
just we four
fiancees and boyfriends inside
and a little disappointed
we could be still,
together,
breathing smoke up
into the clear November.

gauche
20 Nov 09