Cadillac and the oxygen tank

(I wrote this inkling after listening to a senior in a retirement home reminiscing about the good old days as he breathed through his oxygen tank, and puffed on a cigarette.)

80 years, thirty thousand Camels later, his pink lungs turned black.

He replaced his Cadillac Seville,

with a 16 pound oxygen tank, taking a few squirts of air he breathed in two puffs of Camels.

His flannel shirt protected his wrinkled skin from the chills.

He missed the feel of Italian silk, the double Windsor tie with the matching handkerchief, the golden pocket watch connected by a chain.

He longed to open his own doors, drive away with the rooftop down with the wind coursing through his hair.

Sitting next to Jenny with her overstated sunglasses and infectious smile.

His Seville and Jenny have long passed, only if they can be reincarnated along with his golden boy charm, pearly white teeth and arthritis free bones.

Final rest is this retirement home, warm milk beside a fireplace, battling with distant memories, longing for home.

From: Inkling Press

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