I sat on the porch
Looking out at the vast expanse of beer and vomit stained front lawn
As if it was a green sea littered with red solo cup buoys.
You watched as I stubbed out the orange filter butt
Before you sat down beside me,
You asked to bum a smoke,
But you called it a "sad stick."
I found it peculiar and knew
It was a reference to something that I didn't get.
I said sure with a smile,
I had been drinking and
Inhaling more than tobacco smoke.
I handed you a Marlboro red,
You said,"That's rather masculine a choice"
I pulled one from my glittery purple cigarette case.
"They remind me of my grandfather." I informed you.
"I like your eyeliner and tiara"
Was your random reply.
"I'm the birthday girl."
I confessed suddenly feeling numb
As if the realization that I should be inside enjoying myself
Was like taking a bubble bath in Novocaine.
We slid the sticks between our lips at the same moment.
It was a lovely instance of serendipity.
You flicked your zippo and held it between us.
We set the ends aflame together,
One lighter
Two cigarettes
Three minutes of smoking
A few more pleasant chuckles
Too many thoughts that I didn't want in my head
And a stolen kiss.
