Its okay I said
You must feel you have made it
Still smoking in your eighty third year
He cleared his throat
Coughed
Spat
And spluttered his response
All this kafuffle
“Son” he said
Smoking’s done me good
It stopped me from killing myself
At least one hundred times
It reduced my dependence on alcohol
And saved me from counselling
It kept me calm after the war
All this kafuffle
I possibly killed twenty people
Who chose to trust my poisoned air?
But I always thought they loved me
And
My grandchild now has emphysema
The boy has never smoked
I sat him on my knee often
I took him for drives in my car
He loved Grandpa rolling a smoke
My wife died of lung cancer at fifty
She never smoked
Never whinged
That’s life son he said
What’s
All this kafuffle