Smokes by Ryan Quinn Flanagan‏

The many teenagers
out front the corner convenience
want me to buy them
smokes.

They appeal to my vanity

make me feel young again
anything to get them
smokes.

A few of the girls

make eyes
rub my shoulder
as if paedophilia
took a holiday.

Unfortunately

for them
I am good.

Fortified

as any
wine.

Having jerked off eight times

in the past twenty-six
hours
(a new land speed
record)

I desire a bag of pork rinds

and a 2 litre
Coke

and no longer

them.