My Daddy

My Daddy used to always say no one ever won the Marlboro contests. They were all scams. I just knew the Marlboro man was more true than my old man.

My Daddy died of a heart attack when our shed caught fire in a surprise, summer thunder storm.

The smoke and flame seemed like another creature than on my Marlboro Red tips.

I lost my Daddy without ever showing him I was a winner.

Now, I think about him whenever I feel the clunk of my Marlboro thermos against my leg.

Red fire and hot coffee.

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