The Park

A Poem by Aureate

I went to the park to have a smoke.

I sat down on the metal bench and breathed a sigh of relief as I slumped my heavy backpack off my shoulders. My knees and feet ached, and despite the cold breeze I had beads of sweat building on my temples and forehead. I had walked for a very long time, and I had a potentially longer walk back; I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood and it was purely by luck that I was able to stumble upon the park. Like a man stumbling upon an oasis in the desert, I desperately shambled onto the nearest bench where I sat for the next few minutes.

It was quiet. It had not yet rained, but the atmosphere was thick with petrichor and I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with it. It cleared my mind and relaxed my body. Soon the aches began to recede from my legs and back. I sat there on the bench in an almost meditative state for what seemed like an hour before the urge began to take hold of me. I could feel it creeping up inside me, but it took little effort to push it down. It wouldn't be that easy for long.

I had anticipated it, which was why I only brought one. It was in my coat pocket, merely inched from my right hand. The thing itself was practically weightless, but the longer I sat the heavier it seemed to grow. It's weight seemed to pull at my attention the longer I sat. Colors, smells and feeling faded as my mind was torn from the present and all that was left was the urge, the need for it. I could almost feel it between my lips; the flavor in my chest and the numbness that would bathe over me. My hands began to shake and my breathing quickened as I sat wondering how much longer I could suppress my urges. I continued to sit for what must have been hours before it's gravity became almost too much for me. I tried to distract myself with a book but soon the gravity broke the words apart and my focus with them. The world felt like it was collapsing into my pocket; I began to ache for it.

I couldn't take it anymore. I just wasn't strong enough and it was better than me; the urges had gotten the better of me. Defeated and with shaking hands, I unbuttoned my right coat pocked and pulled it out. I stuck it between my teeth and, with the lighter in my left coat pocked, I lit it's tip and inhaled. The world returned to me, and relief spread throughout my chest. My mind and nerves numbed. The cigarette was gone in a matter of minutes. I sat for another ten inwardly cursing myself for not being able to fight the urge. The petrichor was gone. All I smelled was ash. Colors seemed less vibrant and I could only feel the tingle in my chest and brain. The park didn't seem like an oasis anymore. The cigarette had destroyed it. Thankfully I had only brought one.