was an art, the rings
coming out
in great circular puffs
that he was proud of.
there was the pipe,
the cigars,
the winstons.
the silver lighter
that he'd snap open
and closed
when nervous.
the ashtrays would be
full of butts
and ashes.
in the car, on the tables
next to where he
slept.
and even near death,
he wanted one
more cigarette,
which they placed in
a small hole cut into
the front of his neck.
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