Icarus, Daedalus
and Me.
In the midst of my meal. Some may notice me smoking. And perhaps some wonder. why? Allow me to tell you.
During my early adult age. Starting from 17. Fresh out of high school. I found myself toiling away at various proletarian jobs; cashiering, waiting tables, washing dishes. You name it. I’ve done it.
One measly hour of break time
was all I allotted during my long shifts. No less. And certainly no more. And being young, my leisure time was spent mostly drinking and hanging out with the boys. So, i would often arrive at my work fatigued. During those precious 60 minutes, all I desired was to catch some shut eye. But, sustenance was necessary, wasn’t it?
Thus, I Optimized my time.
Forgoing the standard lunch, go outside and smoke breaks which would have consumed 45-Odd minutes. Leaving me with no time to snooze. Instead, I ventured outdoors, cigarettes in hand, dining as I smoked. Gaining 40 minutes of blissful repose.
In my youth, a proletarian.
Working hard, no time to carry on.
One hour break, no time to spare.
Smoking while eating, a moment rare.
‘
I’m not Icarus, but in some ways.
My cigarettes are my Daedalus, always.
Reminding me of where I’ve been.
Of my past, and who I am within.
‘
Now accomplished, but I won’t forget.
The time when smoking while eating. My only outlet.
To rest my head, for just a while.
To catch my breath, to find a smile.
I do not wish to lose sight of who I once was.
Nor do I wish to forget my origins. In the events of I am Icarus. Then my cigarettes are My Daedalus. Regardless of how high I soar into this world. I shall never fly too close to the sun. I shall always be the Derry who smokes while he eats.
