Hear the poem read by the author.
For God’s sake, Mother, it’s only a fag.
You make it all sound as though it’s quite bad.
I like to smoke to give me a high
and who the hell cares whether or not I die.
I feel I’m in heaven – on top of the world!
Never to come down, unless there’s a hill.
And then I’ll accept the damage I’ve done
To my friends, and yourself. And not forgetting my lungs.
I’d rather be cremated instead of lying around
Under the earth way down in the ground.
At least I’ll then be what my cigarettes become;
A small pile of ash to blow away in the sun.