Sunday, December 16, 2007

Jean 1

Kofi Fosu Forson

Sometimes the sky suffocates me, all white and blue staring down at me. I couldn’t escape it if I tried. The only thing that brought me closer, lifted me off my feet to kiss the sky was Lilly.

I met her at the City College. All of us were imprisoned by the smoke. It was cool back then, “Smoking!” Now I run when I see a girl put her hand inside of her purse to pick out a pack, open it, pull out a cigarette, stick it to the edge of her lip, light it, take a drag and blow out the smoke. I got off on that when Lilly and I were going out. I never smoked but I loved watching her. I sat there comfortable and loose.

Sometimes after dinner, sometimes after sex, I watched her do just that…light up and smoke. She was a beginner. Had been smoking for a couple of months. I watched her struggle with the lighter. It wasn’t always a lighter. Sometimes it was a match. It was worse in the winter when the wind kept blowing this way and that. I took pleasure watching her with her fingers clutching the cigarette. The arm that held the cigarette was bent. It looked like the letter “V” with the elbow pointing towards the ground. Guess that’s how women hold their cigarette. Lilly would turn her profile to me, blow smoke out of the side of her mouth. It became like a “thing” with us. When we got bored, I would tell her, “Lilly, smoke me a cigarette!” And she did it! I watched her. All that filthy smoke! Like the sky I could never touch. When I watched Lilly smoke, I felt like dancing on a cloud.

She got more and more experienced at smoking. Her breath tasted bitter. I stopped kissing her. Sex became cold and calculating. On her knees, with her back to me, never face to face. I started to disown her. I thought I could get the same pleasure I got when I watched her smoke by looking at French films. Women smoke in French films. It started to dawn on me that I could have an affair with a woman who smoked and I didn’t even have to kiss her on the mouth. We would do what comes naturally. Kinda like something you do when you need to stretch, sneeze…blow smoke.
Copyright Horatio Monologues 2007

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