This Pack of Cigarettes Will Be My Last

“THIS pack of cigarettes will be my LAST,”
I vowed, trying not to worry about the past --
When just rolling down the window in my blue Toyota
Made me long to light up and watch my “last pack” quota
Go up in smoke. Another seven dollars,
And hours off my life. I imagine a dog collar,
But frown, since I’m also the one holding the leash.
If I was an avid painter, I think that my pastiche
Would be something like Edvard Munch’s "The Scream".
The truth is I have not one, but two dreams.
And in the “COOLER” one, I’m holding a cigarette.
But the thing that my Cosmopolitan self doesn’t get
Is that on the outside, I might be caviar on a cracker;
But inside my lungs are just getting blacker.
The cravings I could counter with good therapy or gum
But without a cigarette –
will I still be a Someone?

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Maryland, USA

Comments

Hi Greg

A serious thing with just that touch of humor that keeps it from being stark. Those damned cigarettes.... 0nce you beat the chemical addiction then you need to deal with the behavioral addiction......stan

thanks mark and stan! i

thanks mark and stan! i realized after i wrote the poem, and with your guys' comments, that quitting can be a really big deal sometimes. so i made some important changes to the poem. identity seems to play a big role in behavior, and that's what the poem is trying to get at, more than anything. glad it is relatable, on one or many levels. and glad you were able to quit, Mark! add more life to your already meaningful life! thanks!

Curling white wisps of mystical calligraphy

ideograms of death,
yet how many memories to a cigarette?
I've got some beauties.

My body beat me...

into submission! I was a smoker for over fifty years and I started at twelve to look "cool" while hanging out with the "older" guys. Finally, I was diagnosed with Emphysema and told I had to quit. As soon as I left the hospital, and was feeling better... Yes, I started with; I'll just have one! Yup, another one later in the day and then "Well, just three a day, one after each meal. Soon, I was back at the level of a pack a day again! This went on for several years with intermittent stays in the hospital. After each stay, and sometime in the third week of abstinence, I stared again! Finally, I had a really bad throat and just couldn't smoke. That was the only way I quit. I got past that third week and never looked back! So yes, I related to it very well. The questioning line at the end really got me! All in all, a really good poem I liked most everything about it. The rhyme is good and the rhythm kept up all the way through. ~ Geezer.
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