Thirteen Smokes by Alison Miller

                   whatcanyouseenow! ghosts and stuff CC



​Thirteen Smokes                  


Marlboro Mediums, soft pack
The flannel that inhaled them
keeping my secret safe
 
The vending machine at the college
on the other side of the woods,
no ID, no problem
 
Cigarettes smell like fall leaves
and look like lakes,
Chuck Taylors circa 1993
 
My mother threatened
the Exxon employees who sold
me cigarettes on Christmas
 
CJ’s mom bought me Parliaments
after I took his virginity but
before he was institutionalized
 
for bleeding the way
I’d taught him, on cigarettes
smoked after school
 
Cigarettes kissing the pages
of my teenage diary
and my inner arms 
 
Smoking from my bedroom window
and stubbing them out on the siding
giving myself away
 
The warm glow of his Swisher
Sweet as he massaged my feet
in the moonlight
 
Bidis from the African House
and the three months I thought
I’d ditched nicotine
 
The half-smoked cigarette
I extinguished when he told me
he didn’t think I could quit
 
Never smoking again
except for the time I was told
a hand-rolled cigarette was weed
 
​The vape pen a woman
half my age left on my nightstand,
her sock beneath my bed


​

Alison’s poetry has been published in various literary magazines including Hobart Pulp, Lynx Eye, and Illya’s Honey. The owner of sex positive adult boutiques in Richmond, Virginia, she currently resides in San Diego. She offers sex writing workshops in Richmond and online. Find her work and info about upcoming events at ThroatsToTheSky.com.