Lulu Katherine Peiffer

(Akkansaw, Winconsin, USA)

My Last Cigarette - Poem by Lulu Katherine Peiffer

I was lookin' round for a chance to prove
That I was cool and 'in the groove'
When I noted a white rod between the lips
Of a smoldering siren with swirling hips.
Looked as tho she was livin' it up real grand,
Smokin' that "cig" with a dainty hand;
So I fell in line to do my thing
About joys of smoking I would sing:
Well, the years rolled by, I was doin' fine,
Folks were friendly; asked me out to dine;
I was living it up in fancy style,
With a fresh cigarette every Twice in a while.
The price of each package began to soar,
And each day I felt that I needed more
Of the lift that I got from that there stuff,
As I strained to get high on every puff.
One morning I awoke with a hacking cough,
Figured it a virus---and passed it off;
I'd choke and strain 'til I was all in,
Then grab another "cig" and light up agin'
This'd go on as I groped for air
A situation that gradually brought despair;
I decided to see what the Doc had to say
Regarding the cough that seemed to stay.
Well, the Doc started X-rays and tests galore;
Took most of my blood, and demanded more
Pinpointed sore spots and muscle aches, too,
Suggesting the possible effects of the flu
"Perhaps you could move to a different clime
Where the weather is mild most all of the time.
It might help your breathing and give you some slack.
And then check with me when you get back.
But after a while, my condition got worse;
I had visions of riding around in a hoarse.
The pains and the lumps, they were getting to me,
'Nother trip to the 'medic' was set up to see
If the doctor could dig down and find out for sure
What kind of a problem I had to endure.
He studied the charts, then came up with a frown:
"Your lungs are a mess, and they may get you down."
I was given some choices: take Chemo or wait
To quit all that smoking would sure seal my fate!
With death at my door and butts at my feet
I'd just keep on smoking and be So discreet.
I'm down to my Last Cigarette, flat in bed;
Don't really mind that soon I'll be dead
'Cause when I go to Heaven there'll certainly be
A way to smoke cigarettes, Penalty-Free.


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Read poems about / on: weather, despair, fate, heaven, death, light



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003



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