Tuesday, April 28, 2009
It was almost dark that day.
I remember the wind touched my hair softly like unseen fingers.
My chest was heavy with uneasy air. I was alone.
Few seconds later my feet brought me
to the quiet road, approaching a small, narrow kiosk.
There I bought it. A pack of kretek.
2 3 4
I choked. Yes, it tasted terrible for my first time.
Did not know how to do it like everyone else.
I pictured the smoke went down through the tunnel
in my throat and carried all the heavy air
from the depth of my chest like an air balloon
that slowly flew out of my nostrils.
A strange relief.
Under the banyan tree. My soul was in pieces,
like tobacco inside a cigarette wrapper,
and life was a combination of bizarre sauces
that mixed with everything in it.
I lit it,
and let the smoke out.
Wish I had wings to fly through the smoke.
But I had not.