Eighteen Cents A Pack

My girl and I were 3/4’s of the way

Through sharing a cigarette

When the old man

On the stool to the right of me

Said

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“Really?”

I questioned.

“We thought because there was a pail sitting here on the bar in front of us filled with sand    

  and cigarette butts that it was ok to smoke.”

“Add the fact that this is a seedy dive beach bar.”

“Nap.”

“You can smoke around the outside of the bar, but not in here.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference though, as the smoke comes in here anyway.”

“Sorry.”

I said

Adding the cigarette butt

To the overflow in the pail.

“It’s alright.”

“I smoked since I was fourteen.”

“You don’t smoke now?”

I asked him.

“Nap.”

He was an old barfly

With intelligent nostalgic eyes

And a sweet face.

“Haven’t smoked in a year and a half.”

I wanted to say 

“Good for you!”

But he continued talking

“I wasn’t a heavy smoker, but I always smoked when I drank...”

He gestured to the 

Pale yellow beer

Sitting in the pint glass

In front of him.

He continued...

“I remember when cigarettes were eighteen cents a pack...my brother would drive down to

  Maryland to buy them cuz they were so much cheaper...until gas prices became too ex-

  pensive and it wasn’t worth it anymore...he would make a little money doing that...”

“Eighteen cents a pack!  Now they’re nine dollars!!!  Goddamn taxes!  They tax the little guy

  for everything.”

He shook his head.

He really wanted to keep talking

And he did.

I like bars without TV’s.

He worked his gums until we left

His eyes sparkling.

“It was nice meeting you both.”

He told us.

I shook his hand.

On our way out to the boardwalk

I stopped the bartender

And asked her how much a beer was.

“Depends on what you’re drinking?”

She replied.

“What that old guy over there is drinking.”

I pointed.

“$2.50.”

“I want to buy him a beer.”

I told her.

She reached for a glass.

“But I don’t want you to bring it to him until he’s finished with the one he’s working on.”

She put the glass down.

“That’s really sweet.”

She said.

I handed her some cash.

“I’ll tell him.”

She offered.

“No.  Don’t.  Just give it to him when he’s finished.  If you want, you can tell him then.”

I left there feeling good.

Sometimes 

It’s the smallest of charities

That makes one feel warm and fine
Rinsing the sins out.

My girl and I arrived out into the salty air

The sound of amusement rides

The glittering dischord of lights

Laughter

Screams.

The warmth of her hand in mine.

I watched her with a grin

As she lit a cigarette

Took a drag 

And passed it to me

With a smile and a wink.

“That was a really nice thing you did back there.”

She told me.

I handed the cigarette back to her

Exhaling.

I was feeling mighty fine then

And kissed her cigarette mouth.