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.