Nicotene kiss

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So long ago… an image of clear, cascading water… green leaves and virginal blossom… a happy couple with fresh faces… those tempting words, “Cool, fresh Consulate, cool as a mountain stream.”

The advertisement beckoned temptingly from magazines, forever whispering in my ear, suggesting that I, too, could find myself scrambling up mountains, sharing jokes and smiles with a male soul-mate, if only I smoked menthol cigarettes…

And you, the truth behind those pretty lies, your handsome face half-hidden by the shadow of night-time trees in a city park, smoke from your cigarette curling upwards, forming a half-frame which drew me ever back to your sensuous lips. How could I resist the offer of one of your narrow, nicotene-filled tubes, so stylishly flicked from the interior of the pack? My foolish heart lurched at the intimacy of your lighter igniting the end of my cigarette…

Those times I spent with you, in the corner of a cloudy nightclub, drinking doubles, while I smoked like a grown-up, never once smudging my make-up, feeling, oh, so sophisticated… I was young, and in love… We never climbed mountains, meeting only at night, under those city lights sometimes sneaking into the park, to make the only kind of love I had ever known. Afterwards you would want a drink… a cigarette… soon, so did I…

I lie here, in the slippered silence of this hospice, listening to my rasping breath, feeling the alien growth take over my lungs… I press a button on the gadget in my hand, and feel the swift relief of morphine haze. If only you were here with me, but I’m on my way to you…

I wish we could share one last nicotene kiss…

Written for Michelle’s Photo-Fiction Challenge.

©Jane Paterson Basil

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25 thoughts on “Nicotene kiss

      1. Writers’ freedom. But I have been pondering a lot lately at the 180* things turned lately: those once magnificent, magazine size pictures of strong men and amazing women placed in breathtaking nature and fabulous hotels or yachts have been replaced by the horrendous images of cancerous lungs, liver, fetid mouths. This should say something about the trends we follow, should they?

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        1. And yet, still, in general, the human race blindly consumes carcenogenic foods and fills the planet with carcenogenic matter, ignoring prevention while braying for cure. But maybe it’s too late anyway, since we split the atom and made way for radioactive waste.
          I thunk there’s a poem in there somewhere… I’ll copy and paste it, and possibly have a play…

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    1. Thank you. The first part in based on me, in my teens. I used to gaze at that magazine ad, wishing I was climbing a mountain with a menthol cigarette between my fingers. Then I feel for a guy who wanted me to smoke, so I smoked… I thought I was so grown-up at thirteen 🙂
      I was also pulled in to a Mateus Rose wine ad. of Uni students picnicing by a canal in Cambridge (England). It’s left me with a hatred for misleading ads.

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  1. Oh so tragic, and so romantic in the way that James Dean was, or Johnny Depp in ‘Cry Baby’. It’s amazing the way some things are soooo endearing, but sooo dangerous. I love this story Jane, sorry it took me so long to get back. Life just has a way of getting in the way now a days.

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