It’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and Easter.
It’s 4th of July when fireworks bring me to life.
It’s a cracked beer, dirty hands, and a lit cigarette.

We share laughs while snorts sneak into tasteless jokes.
We yell at each other, we avoid contact, we let them know we’re pissed.
We get over it, move on, and have a cigarette.

Back sass, swearing, filterless outbursts.
New tattoos, new boyfriends, new husbands.
Old shoes, cheap rings, summer flings, cigarettes.

“Lunch was delicious!” I spit it out,
lying to win this hand of poker,
to collect my coins, smile, and smoke my cigarette.

We’re crazy, we’re weird, and we’re rude.
We’re carefree, we’re broke, we’re unsatisfied.
We’re trying, we’re family, and if you need us, we’re out back smoking a cigarette.