Smoking Will Kill You
SMOKING WILL KILL YOU
He said “Smoking will kill you!”
catching the faint smell, scanning
for ash trays as he entered her apartment,
ready to accept months of miscalculation
of red lips and laughter, dark hair and desire,
intellect and intrigue and a hint of tobacco smell
that was surely the fine residue of her
colleagues, family or friends
“I do not smoke!” she said, mildly insulted
“Yes, I have cigarettes and a lighter but I don’t take
them to work! I don’t take them to the gym or on my
early morning run, not to chorale practice or to visit with
my friends, never to the market or to the plaza nearby,
nor the home of my parents or to local restaurants!
But every evening after dinner I have a single cigarette
with a glass of good red wine!”
“And what do you do after that?”
he asked with simmering sarcasm, the rhythm of her
high heels gliding across the kitchen to a samba he
couldn’t hear
“I read fascinating books and listen to my music!”
she said, pouring two glasses of Chilean carmenere,
fingering her lighter, reaching into her purse for
that flat golden case
“But I’ve decided that I want you, and for all the right
reasons! So tonight, if you behave, I’ll put the
reading aside”!
“I am not one of your privileges” he softly suggested,
his bushy black beard almost masking the smile on
his mahogany face
“And I am not a problem to be solved” she responded,
handing him his wine, her playful green eyes
shining in the flame of a small golden lighter
and the soft glowing promise
of a long life together!
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