The First Time I Tried A Cigarette

The first time I tried a cigarette,

is a story I always wanted to tell,

for my parish priest had always said,

that if anyone did, they'd go to Hell.

My hands were shaking as I opened the pack,

and I pulled one out and stared,

at the tiny, slender thing.

tiny slender eternal damnation.

"Light it you dumb a*s!

Quickly, quickly, they'll soon be back",

said Devin,

or was it Kevin,

I don't remember his name,

some long haired kid with a lanky frame,

usually found in the back of the park we once came,

for our Sunday walks,

my parents and I,

but they'd gone off to buy some scones,

and so I thought,

why not find out,

if hell awaits at the end of a cig.

An inquisitive, intelligent child would note,

that there surely existed people that smoked,

I saw them everyday and I asked,

"Why are they not in Hell, Pastor?"

"MANIFESTATIONS OF THE DEVIL",

he screamed!

They exist among us,

they plot, 

they scheme!

To drag us into the fiery depths

where hope is a forgotten myth.

So as I stood with Devin,

or Kevin,

with a lit cigarette in my quivering hand,

I took my first puff,

and blew it right back out.

And Devin Kevin,

he yelled again,

"You're supposed to suck in a bit of air first

you dumb a*s!

Quickly quickly!"

I did as told,

and in an instant I felt my lungs fold,

cough,

cough,

surely I would cough out my heart,

and die a sinner here and now,

watering eyes amidst choked breaths,

I saw the devil await in the embers that burned

the paper away,

I saw my soul in the smoke,

rising up clutching desperately at the heavens.

But death did not come.

No, death did not come.

Not after the first puff, 

or the next,

or the next,

or the next.

Until there I was with just a bit of it left,

and it burnt my hand,

"Put it out dumb a*s!

Quickly quickly!",

and he had already disappeared,

Kevin Devin had,

and I stamped on the remnants with my shoe,

and walked slowly back to my parents,

my mind a cynical circus,

in doubt of everything I had ever been told.

Maybe I didn't do it right,

maybe the next one will send me to hell,

I thought,

or maybe it was just another one of the lies,

that parish priests tell.