A Time When Smoking was Cool

It’s Dart O Clock Somewhere
Lights up the cigarette and lies on her back
Of fuck sorry did I say her
Didn’t mean to assume the gender
Of this made up person, Inside my head
Better than a bullet made from lead
The match drops to the ground
But who uses matches anymore
Not even the fuckin poor
This butane shit’s giving me cancer
In the forties and the time of Sartre and Camus
Everyone knew how smoking was cool
Now it’s for the proletariat construction worker
For a quick break from the angry supervisors
work or not
They’re still doing nothing
But trying to speed up what’s left of their time
All just for one measly dime