Some Change Could Make A Change

I wrote this little piece the other day. I hope you enjoy it.

Outside on our little porch that leads to the parking lot of our apartment complex we keep an old Folger's coffee can out to dispose of our cigarette butts. We never empty it so it's filled to the brim with a large variety of pre-smoked tobacco products and various bits of trash that find their way there. The brands are like the rings of a tree that mark different times during the school year. Mostly, it's all Camel cigarettes but there's also a lot of Pall Mall's from when we were low on cash and needed to buy a cheaper brand and hand rolled from when I was just plain out of money. There are Marlboros because Grant stole cigarettes from his parents whenever he went home. Large and small cigar butts pepper the landscape from when we had more extravagant guests and nights. Celebrations for a job well done or a quiet night of drinking, watching TV and lighting up a stogie. The label on the can has burned off and the plastic cap attached to the bottom has melted and fused to the wood of the porch due to the numerous times it has caught fire. It sits out there as an altar. First to our own vice and addiction. All three of us have been known to smoke a pack a day on a good day and they're all laying in there, waiting for the day that we finally empty it out. It's second purpose is a reminder of the times we've had and how important they were to us. Drinks and dancing filled the receptacle as much as our dependency on tobacco and that's the paradox. That can sits as a reminder of two very different feelings. One of helplessness and weakness and the other of joy and celebration. It's confusing to me and I'll be glad to throw it away.