NOT MUCH TO MISS EXCEPT THE GLAMOUR & BARFLIES. So glad I quit smoking…

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I rarely enter writing contests but I like the bent of this one, the Tobacco Lit Writing Contest and I like Geist Magazine as well. My entry, from my book, Three Blocks West of Wonderland:

BIG TOBACCO HEIRESS

Quit cigarettes too late, just as he bumped

into the pleasures of paternity. Cigar rituals.

Crystal trapezoid ashtray ready on the desk

itchy sedge thin, trumped up gorgeous

delinquent daughter in mind. How did I spawn

such a barren, martini-swacked maladroit?

Off to fiesta every three months, flea circus of slackers.

fasionistas and slap jack suitors along for a free ride.

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He’s precise, positions the Cohiba in a double blade

stainless steel guillotine cutter. Scrutinizes the Avedon

portrait, a study in bad attitude. All attitude, filter less

Camel protruding from punk sneer. Karsh of Ottawa

snatched it, snapped rage.

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Dreading her return from Wagonga Inlet, he toasts

the tip above a flame, ensuring a good, even smoke.

Took them fishing. For yellow fin. Bream. He draws

rapidly, harshly, locking Bentley convertible keys

in the top drawer. Heading back early. Slow, due to a drop

in water temperature according to the pricey guide.

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Determined to cut her off if she doesn’t clean up.

Damned ash tunnels. Should puff gently,

though everything is about to give; the straw house

slanted as a rhombus, his lungs, faded to black.

Could leave it all to charity. Tough love

too callous. Probably rushed–ruined–her too.

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