Let The Nicotine Fly Higher Than The Birds Over Superior Lake. (the gig was up. I should have set sail at dawn.)

Gloomy midwestern mornings.
I'm sure some ass-hole wrote about its beauty.
I'm sure i'm guilty of it. Anyways...
I had bought a bag of rolling tobacco a week back.            
I quit smoking 8, 9 years ago.              
When I was with an ex-girl, I had picked up rolling my own,              
for...financial reasons I explained.              
What I didn't tell her in that Duluth? hotel              
was that I started rolling as an excuse to get away from her.              
She hated the smell more than a regular cigarette somehow.              
and I was upping myself by buying a corn cob pipe...              
But still,              
30 sweet minutes of just, not her.          
I would sneak swigs from my flask in the meanwhile.                
It didnt matter what time of the day yet.              
It was necessary for my head for later,              
when I would inevitably feel trapped.              
Back then I was still on whiskey. Kentucky of course.              
*sip sip*              
This was probably the last time I remember it maybe working out.              
She had talked about moving away from the town i've despised since I was a teenager.              
About independence from her Father.              
I remember this one thing so vividly because my mind raced with excitement.              
Maybe there was something more to her after all.              
But then she let the secret slip              
that her parents were talking about moving there as well...        
I think that's when I realized,              
that none of these decisions were mine.              
That I was just being dragged along.              
For this sick                
sad                
fucking                
ride.              
*GLUG*              
               
This memory made me smile out of guilty mischief.              
It reminded me that I was right about a lot of things.              
Most things.              
And that most of my failures lie in my lack of action.              
My silence.              
Or....my success in misguided wandering....              
               
I took a deep sigh as I pinched the tobacco back out from the paper              
and rerolled this cigarette for an 8th time,                
leaned back in my chair,              
twirled it through my fingers,              
and started over again.              
Because...              
remember?              
I quit smoking 8, 9 years ago.