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We stood outside to smoke
Somewhere between too late at night
And too early in the morning
We assembled like robots
Inhaling puffs of therapy
In the midst of systematic conversation
We took turns
Bouncing our problems off each others minds
Each waiting for his or her turn to let loose
All we needed was to vent.
After too many precious moments had been wasted
On trials and tribulations that in the large scale of things
Should never even matter,
A man who had been standing there unnoticed finally spoke
“At least you’re breathingâ€
This man, a statue of humility
He spoke with the authority of Mufasa
We sat as young cubs and listened
“Today’s my 50th birthday
To celebrate I think I’ll walk the town a little
Before going back to my woodsâ€
He coughed up blood into his fist
Before taking another puff
Before he could walk away
She handed him two dollars
And a few cigarettes,
But no act of kindness could counter the fact
That in a few short moments he would again be alone
The anniversary of the day he was born
Celebrating the fact he wished he could just die
Roll over in the woods unnoticed and perish with seasons
Loveless and Lonely
At least he’d keep his dignity
“I hope it doesn’t rain todayâ€
The car ride home was silenced by the muffled embarrassment
No one ranted.
©Paris “Chi†Butler, “Venting Part IIâ€. 6/7/2013.
