A poem #8 – Smoking man

This is actually an excerpt from my novel, In Swings The Tide, where the protagonist finds himself out on the smoking terrace of an opulent hotel/conference centre, amidst a sea of drunken thoughts, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke as it’s curling off the lips of the fashion stylists and industry busybodies. The smoke sings to him and he is reminded of smoking again, and the pull of nicotine addiction.

I am the smoking man,
I stand here tall and white.
I am in your hand,
to comfort you through all the troubles in life.
I am the smoking man,
how I burn when we’re alone.
We talk like distant lovers do,
upon the telephone.
I am the smoking man, I’m here to stay your hunger,
I am the smoking man, I’m here to stay your hunger.

JP Collins

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