Tobacco; so sweetly fragrant and moist. Yielding beneath my fingertips as I pull you from the pouch to be twisted into a cylinder that I can set ablaze. Tobacco, you give my hands something to occupy themselves with so that I can feel productive, so that I can balance out the odd twitches of self-consciousness in a social setting.
Tobacco, you give me something to do first thing in the morning, and it’s always something new and novel that comes flying up from my lungs, some part of me that had yet to be seen. Tobacco, you see to it that I experience the crispness of night, staring out from behind prismatic icicles that dangle from the porch at work. Tobacco, you bring so many strangers to me, all these humans looking for my assistance, a cigarette or a light; you provide me with the excuse I need to stand outside of various public buildings and strike up irrational conversations with all the other fools out there.
Tobacco, you’ve brought me into the personal space of more than a few girls who needed a light at the bar and decided to let me flick my… well I carry a Zippo…
Tobacco, you’ve gotten me extra breaks at work, you’ve helped me escape from strange gatherings to stand outside with my thoughts. You’ve helped bleed my wallet of all this extra currency that seems to pile up around me. And I just wanted to thank you.