A childish rhyme celebrating and mourning 15 years of smoking

THE AMATEUR STAGE (Boarding school 1990-1995)

It all began the usual way,
I smoked to hang out with friends back in the day.
We smoked discreetly in the toilets,
Blowing rings into the extractor fan inlets.
We smoked very fast,
As a way to relax between class
We smoked as a sign of protest,
We smoked to be different from the rest.
My parents did not like this,
But I thought I can quit in a moments notice

So thinking there that this will not go on forever,
I moved on to the next stage of my smoking career

THE PROFESSIONAL SMOKER STAGE (National Service 1995-1997)

Like the guy in the locomotive shoveling coal
I needed to suck in the nicotine to make me whole
To help me through the sense of helplessness and boredom
In that arbitrary military fiefdom
The habit was slowly fused into me,
A day without it was an impossible fantasy

It occurred to me, that it might now be possible,
That the effects on my lungs are becoming irreversible

THE ANTI-SOCIAL SMOKER STAGE (Cambridge and MIT 1997-2005)

My company has changed,
No longer hanging out with the miscreants and deranged
Replaced by the cream of the crop
Who thought smoking was rot.
I had to hide in the shadows and dark corners
To avoid the stares of these elite movers and shakers
Hurriedly emptying ashtrays into my closet
Everytime someone dropped by for a visit

Today I only “powerstick” once or twice
As I want to quit before I turn ten thrice
Just one step till completely quitting
But there is something I am fearing,
A part of me that I am losing
For I have completely forgotten the feeling
Of breathing only clean fresh air
And having fingers that smell fair.