The Non-Smoker
By: Denishea Young
I see you.
With smoke billowing around your head
Streaming from your lips.
Floating in the air.
Whipped away by the wind.
Dispersed to one knows where
A look of content, of albatross
Flying away
Bringing that small white stick,
That metal modern tube,
That old wooden pipe
To your lips.
Smiling as you take a protracted pull
I see you.
I smell you.
As you walk by from being outside
Rain, snow, shine
Out you go a quick jerky stride
In you come with a smooth loose pace.
What happened to all that stress?
What happened to all that angst?
How can you smile?
Relax, Relate, Release.
It doesn’t work for me
I see you.
I smell you.
I hear you.
As you sigh in relief
Click, the lighter held to the tip.
Pulling in a breath
Tossing it out, whoosh.
Steady as the ocean waves
Rising, falling
Sucking in, blowing out
I see you.
I smell you.
I hear you.
I taste you.
In the air you linger
Alluring and repelling
I love your fruity taste
So inviting and sweet
As you tantalize my senses.
I want to gulp you down.
I hate your pungent odor
That fouls and soils the air
I hold my breath as you hang there.
I run quickly away
Least you try to stay.
A bitter memory
Causing a shimmy and a shudder
Dissent of the digestive
A grimace and a swig to send you away.
I see you.
I smell you.
I hear you.
I taste you.
I feel you.
A flick of your fingers
A grounding of your shoe
The stress you once had
Has now bid adieu
Dear God, how I envy you.
