A few people have found this blog with this search term. As an individual, I used to smoke. I quit by accident about three years ago, so now I secondhand smoke. I go out onto porches and stoops with friends, and boyfriends, and people I don’t even know to get a tiny nicotine fix.
There was a short story we read in college that was a very popular discussion point for all creative writing folks. In it, a man who is blind smokes. It started a conversation about character points and reality/unreality. I was always on the side that said that plenty of blind people smoke. However, a lot of people said that if this individual was blind from birth, he would never have had the incentive to start as he could never see the group of smokers or the curling trail of smoke wafting in the air.
Lift the paper and foam filter
to your cracked lips. Draw the cotton
thick smoke between yellowed teeth,
then push it out again, threading thru
your nostrils and hair. This is what holds
your cells together; this is the dangerous
particulate glue holding freckles to skin,
skin to meat, meat to bone. What is left
when you stop: clavicle and skull,
and a need for more.