my last cigarette
last night I dreamed of you
wept for you, called out to you
but prayed fervently
that you would never
resurrect,
not you…
…you one hundred millimeter
mentholated bastard,
because I see you yet
in the last moments of
disintegration
your heinous life, snuffed
and ending in a bitter blue haze
that steams forth, as you lie
crippled beyond repair
your slender body
crushed and fragmented
into a cluster of a half dozen
tiny glowing cinders,
embers that gleam
like demons’ eyes
phosphorescent
and dying
as they devolve into ash
and join the others
in the black, hard-plastic ashtray
that sits beside a white, bone china mug…
“Patty’s Diner”
“Open all Nite”
“Since 1955”
it says on the mug
a mug that’s beside
(and slightly to the left of)
a plate of scrambled eggs
and overdone potatoes…
…the platter uneaten
as Charlie Pride sings
on the tablejuke
“Just Between You and Me”
and I declare that tonight
on April the eighteenth
nineteen hundred and eighty two
at ten thirty seven PM
we are officially over.
Ed's end of the planet books 
Yes! One of my sisters died from complications of smoking — at age 47. So damn good for you.
Thankfully gave them up many years ago (as noted in this poem). I would certainly encourage anyone to do the same.
I did notice that! Still, so many try and fail. Which is why it is sooooo much smarter to not start. (OK, I’m climbing off this soapbox now …)
Nice job. Real good poem. What’s nice about your work is that it is real. So much poetry is not, I think.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your taking time to comment. I try to write about my own life, and about others that I am close to, or have known.
Actually its Joan saying, ” Great poem, Eddie”!! You really know how your writing hit home for a lot of us!! Keep up the great work in all areas!
Thank you for the kind words Joan, and thank you for stopping by and for taking the time to comment.