Walking in the woods and looking down
On the ground and around
And finding remnants of the past
And wondering what happened to those who used to call this place home.

No, not the birds, the squirrels, the bugs,
The deer, or even the groundhogs,
But a very peculiar and extinct species-
The smoker.

They’d migrate here in herds,
Before school, during school, and after school,
Marking their tracks with cigarettes and wrappers,
Fleeing away from the first sign of authority,
In order to avoid getting caught
And live in the captivity of in school suspension.

Then again, I shouldn’t feel too bad.
Polluting the planet one cigarette at a time.
Slowly rotting and deteriorating their teeth, their lungs, their planet,
And most importantly,
Themselves.