He quit

He quit

He told me once
that he decided
to quit smoking
when he visited
his father
who had cancer
in the hospital.

He saw people
sitting outside
on park benches
taking their
chemotherapy
dosages
and smoking
at the same time
with thin aluminum stands
next to them
holding bags of poison
to fight
what the poison
they continued
to inhale
had done
to them
already.

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About big jonny

The man, the legend. The guy who started it all back in the Year of Our Lord Beer, 2000, with a couple of pages worth of idiotic ranting hardcoded on some random porn site that would host anything you uploaded, a book called HTML for Dummies (which was completely appropriate), a bad attitude (which hasn’t much changed), and a Dell desktop running Win95 with 64 mgs of ram and a six gig hard drive. Those were the days. Then he went to law school. Go figure. Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

6 thoughts on “He quit

  1. My dad died of Colon cancer. I used to smoke 2.5 packs a day. He told me I didn’t want to die that way. I quit. I don’t want to die that way; I saw how bad it was. Now I just ride instead.

  2. I see this everyday….leaning on a pillar outside of work. One hand on the aluminum pole, the other on the cancer stick. All the while standing under a no smoking sign. And expectant mothers/new borns coming and going, making their way through the L.A. smog…smokers rights, my ass.

  3. Now that’s a good poetic polimic.
    Cancer runs bad in my family, I think I smoke occasionally simply to show no fear to the ugly monster.
    When work & world kicks my ass, I’ll let myself smoke the brown (occasionaly) or the green (too frequently).
    A pack of smokes can do wonders or evils for your day.
    Once upon a time, I was a medical records clerk, Hospitals make people nervous, they go out back to smoke.
    People light up next to liquid oxegen when the LOX truck rolls up.
    People smoke in front of the oncology clinic.
    I really, really want a filterless on the way back, when I’ve run out of legs, and I’m still miles & miles from home.
    When everything is shaking, my mind is no longer verbal, all asphalt, traffic, directions and is that truck gonna take me out?
    Then I’ll hit 7-11 for the american spirits.
    And brown trumps green, just that once.

    (oh yeah, and brown being not against the law, minor detail)

    Is it wrong to want a handlebar ashtray?