Cigarettes and Misery

man-1519667_1920(photo credit: Pixabay)

He wants to sell his father’s land….

the drunk man.

Sell that small piece of land,

go live with his woman.

the idea of working beneath him,

sees absolutely no point of it.

Living with this woman means a better life than the farm,

will allow him access to her purse,

hence access to money,

he laments.

“how much do you wanna sell the land?

“Oh! You can’t hack” he projects

If he wasn’t doped on cheap liquor I would have been insulted,

Then again,

he was right,

I wouldn’t hack!

He gives me tales of money,

tales of women,

tales of alcohol,

tales of cigarettes.

This drunk man living in his father’s land…

Cigarettes and misery!

It’s my solitude bench most days,

but on this night the bench beheld this drunk man,

He was drunk,

I was sober,

Cigarettes and misery,

how we found ourselves on that bench!

Tales of his women,

tales of his land,

tales of great money,

None of which he had,

Was this why he had become a wasted man?

Seeking acclamation from alcohol and cigarettes?

Was this why I had that white stick at hand?

Cigarettes and misery!

Oh how one compliments the other,

Paradoxical……

How that tiny stick feels like the righter of wrongs!

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