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Smoke 'em if you got 'em
Mar. 29th, 2008 12:48 amLittle cigarette. My friend, my companion, my enemy, my addiction. 80mm long, 5-7 minutes to smoke. Then a dirty butt with coffee-colored stain. It's wrinkled and compressed from my lips. Other end is black and chalky gray, crumpled from the ashtray. A slight whiff reminds me of popcorn, but a closer smell tickles the nose. Smells like smoke.
Fresh and unlit it smells like a barn, like the wood in a barn. It's kind of pleasant, maybe like an old attic. Yes, like my grandmother's attic. The filter looks like a cork -- Who decided it should? -- Brown paper with tan splotches. Feels spongy between my fingers, like foam padding. A band of white separates it from the cigarette, with two gold stripes encircling. Then thin white paper, very thin, stuffed full of tobacco. I can almost see through to the dry crumbled leaves inside. Shiny spots of glue sparkle where the paper overlaps. Cute little camel printed there, standing on a thin brown line.
It's calling me now.
A bright flame, a puff of smoke, an inhalation. It's dry on the tongue, filter warm on the lips. Smoke in the lungs -- a feeling of fullness, like taking a really big breath of air. Feels good. Feels right. Tip is reddish-orange, surrounded by white ash, trying to hold its form. It fails. Now black ash chasing a black line, fading to brown away from the heat. Little camel is burned. Smoke still flows through the filter after the last puff. Exhalation. Butt crushed.
Fresh and unlit it smells like a barn, like the wood in a barn. It's kind of pleasant, maybe like an old attic. Yes, like my grandmother's attic. The filter looks like a cork -- Who decided it should? -- Brown paper with tan splotches. Feels spongy between my fingers, like foam padding. A band of white separates it from the cigarette, with two gold stripes encircling. Then thin white paper, very thin, stuffed full of tobacco. I can almost see through to the dry crumbled leaves inside. Shiny spots of glue sparkle where the paper overlaps. Cute little camel printed there, standing on a thin brown line.
It's calling me now.
A bright flame, a puff of smoke, an inhalation. It's dry on the tongue, filter warm on the lips. Smoke in the lungs -- a feeling of fullness, like taking a really big breath of air. Feels good. Feels right. Tip is reddish-orange, surrounded by white ash, trying to hold its form. It fails. Now black ash chasing a black line, fading to brown away from the heat. Little camel is burned. Smoke still flows through the filter after the last puff. Exhalation. Butt crushed.