ablaze addiction air alarm andiron aroma arson asbestos ash ashtray backdraft backfire bake ban band barbacue bellows billow blacken blaze blend bloom blow blowtorch bomb bonfire bong bouquet brand breathe brimstone bud bunsen-burner burn butt campfire cancer candle candlestick canister cannabis carbon carbon-monoxide carburetor carcinogen carton "catch fire" cauldron ceasefire chainsmoker chalice char charcoal chimney "chipper" choke cigar cigarette cigarillo cinder "coffin nail" coal combust conflagrate consume convection contain cook Corona cough crack craving cremate crematorium Cuban cure cutter dank dependence detector detonator diesel ditchweed dog-iron dopamine drill drag dragon draw dynamite ember emission engine enkindle emphysema escape evacuation exhale exhaust exit explosive extinguish fag fatwood feed fiery filtered fire firebug firecracker firedog firefighter fireplace fireproof firetrap firetruck firework five-alarm flame flammable flare flashover flickering forge freebase fuel "full flavor" fume fumigate furnace fuse ganja gasoline gasp grate grenade grill gun gust habit hash Havana haze HAZMAT headshop heat hearth hell hellfire hellhole hemp herb hickory hit holder holding holocaust hookah hose hot huffing humidor hydrant ignite incense incendiary incinerate inferno inflammable inhale iron joint kiln kindle kindling kings ladder lamp lantern lava Lent light lighter lightning locoweed log lox lung mantel marijuana match matchbook matchbox menthol nicotine oil-lamp opium oven pack parch parejo patch panatela paper "peace pipe" perfecto phlogiston pipe plume pot powder presidente puff pump punk "put out" pyre pyromania pyrotechnic quit reefer retardant ring roach roast roll "roll your own" screen scorch sear second-hand shade-grown signal singe sizzle skywriting slag slim smelt smolder smoke "smoke-filled rooms" "smokes" smokescreen "smoking a cloud" "smoking gun" smother smudge "social smoker" spark spiff spit spread stain steam stifle stogie stove strike subdue suffocate sulfur squib tabacco tallow "take a hit" taper tar tinder tinderbox toast tobacco toke torch torpedo "touch off" trigger unfiltered "ultra lights" urge vapor vat vent ventless ventilation volcano votive wax weed withdrawal wheeze wick wildfire wind wrapper yellowed yulelog Zippo 100s 420


Poetry (any form or style) and Micro or Flash Fictions wanted for an anthology on SMOKE. Not just the black clouds rising from the five-alarm fire next door, or the billowing plumes of smoke warning us of a forest fire, or the emissions from factory smoke stacks, apartment house incinerators, and crematoriums, smoke rings rise from cigarettes, smoke pours out of headshops, pipe shops & cigar stores--see that purple haze rising over the fields of poppies and marijuana we just planted--we've used it to communicate via smoke signals and skywriting, to cover our tracks and disappear with and without mirrors, combat the enemy on and off the battlefield, kill bugs, flavor food, cure illness, declare peace treaties, and fragrance our homes. Got the idea? Release it onto the page.

Guidelines: Submit up to three poems/micro fictions or two flash fictions at a time with a fascinating bio of 35 words or less, not just limited to publication credits, copy/pasted in the body of an e-mail (no attachments, please) to roxy533 at yahoo dot com & . We will also entertain up to six one-liners or 2 short stand up routines at time. Previously published work is OK as long as authors have retained the copyright, which will be returned to them after publication. Simultaneous submissions are encouraged. If your work is accepted elsewhere, and you still have obtained rights to republish, just let us know where and we'll be happy to acknowledge the other publication.

If you do not receive a response from us within a month of your submission considered it rejected and feel free to submit again. Due to the volume of submissions we cannot respond to each and every individual submission. Selection for the on-line edition are made on a ongoing basis as we receive your submissions. However, final selections for the print edition will made after the October 31st deadline. (In otherwords not everything that made the cut for the online edition will appear in print.) Please do not query. When in doubt, send the submission to roxy533 at yahoo dot com &

Saturday, April 4, 2009

J A M E S - A - D I C K - T I O N by Big Mike

... It was LOVE , that drove me to Nicotine ... LOVE for a boy.

I was thirteen-years old, JIMMY ROBERTSON, was twelve. Jimmy had a fondness for removing his white "HANES" T-shirt, stuffing it inside the left back pocket of his Bermuda shorts, exposing his pale, pink boy-breasts, with their "silver-dollar" honey-colored nipples, while catching the afternoon's summer sun, and turning his muscular lad's back, to a golden-brown, switching his girlish hips, to-and-fro, as he paraded across the softball diamonds of my Bronx youth. My eyes fixated on the dimples of his sacroiliac, the crease of his gluteus folds, his ass-crack, visible just above, the skewed panty-lines, of his "Fruit-Of-The-Loom" tightie-whities.

"... ROBERTSON!!! You walk like a FUCKIN' - GIRL !!! A FUCKIN' - GIRL, who just wants to be FUCKED!!!"

"... Sit on it, and rotate, SONNY!!!" Jimmy "flipped" Sonny Fitzgibbon, The Finger, coquettishly glancing over his left shoulder, winking a "come-hither" look, at his cat-caller, accentuating his cissy lisp.

"... Sit on it, and rotate, MOTHER - FUCKER!!!"

Jimmy did walk just like a girl, a girl who wanted to be fucked! And I wanted him to be my girlfriend ... and to fuck him! As I stared at his teen buttocks, I was stunned by my first teen erection, pounding in my pants. Socially inept, awkward, I would never have a real girlfriend. But Jimmy, would provide a more than adequate substitute.

"... Hey, BIG MIKE, wanna know a secret?" that obscure object of my desire wanted to take me, into her confidence.

"... SURE!!!"

"... Well, me, and Kevin Trainer, and Kevin Schwartz, got us a clubhouse, up on the grounds of the Kingsbridge Veterans' hospital. You can join our club ... but, there's an initiation rite ... "

(... OOOH!!! I sure hope it involves Sodomy!!!)

"... And, you gotta swear, not to tell anybody what we do, up there--not even your brother. If my mother ever found out what we were doin' up there, she ' d kill me!!!"

(... OOOH , BABY!!! This sounds almost too good to be true!!!)

"... YEAH!!! YEAH!!! I swear!"

"... Okay, Friday night, eight o' clock, meet me on Bailey and Sedgwick Avenue ... "

My lust, could barely contain itself, for the next two days! That Friday, I palmed a purse-sized jar of "VASELINE," from my older sister's pocketbook, in anticipation of the new-found wonders of Pedophilia, which I was soon to be initiated into ...

Jimmy Robertson, Kevin Trainer, and Kevin Schwartz, were all present at the designated rendezvous point, behind the Fordham Hill Apartments. Kevin Trainer, was A "Faggot"; at eleven years old, he was the youngest of this "daisy-chain." Kevin Trainer, was obviously the femme "bottom-boy," for Kevin Schwartz, the Macho-Butch, star-athlete, the "Little-League" fire-ball pitcher. And, Jimmy Robertson, would soon be "MINE"!!! Jimmy the Sodomite leader, took "point," leading us through dirt trails, into the jungle of the Veterans' Hospital grounds.

" ... Watch Out ... !!! The guards patrol these gardens with K-9 attack police-dogs!!!"

( "... H O R R O R S!!! To be surprised mid-breach, by the agents of Justice!!!")

And there, beneath a bower of bent-over brush, brambles, and vines, covered with sheets of corrugated cardboard, and balsa-wood slats, ripped from packing-cases , was the "Club-House Of Iniquity"!!! The place reeked of pederasty, and pre-pubescent sex-games. Jimmy Robertson orchestrated the entire performance.

" ... OKAY !!! We gotta be fair, to the "new-comer." When I count to "THREE," everybody pull theirs' outta their pants!" Jimmy smirked, lasciviously.

" ... OKAY !!! ONE !!! TWO !!! THREE !!! PULL !!! "

OH ! The joys of that one, brief, fleeting Moment of Truth !

Jimmy Robertson, stood there, with a pack of "KOOL MENTHOL 100 ' S ," in his hand, which he stole, from his older sister's purse. Kevin Trainer, had a pack of "KENT III ' S," which he stole from his mother's handbag . Kevin Schwartz , had a pack of un-filtered "CHESTERFIELDS," which he stole from his father's NYC Sanitation Department overalls.

And ME ? I had my " C O C K ," in my hand, pre-lubed, twitching, in pre-orgasmic tension,"and a shit-eating" grin, plastered all over my face!

" ... HEY, B I G M I K E ... ? What are you showing me, your B O N E R , for ... ? "

( ... The little sarcastic " B I T C H " !!!)

One second stop .

" ... U H ? 'cuz I gotta take a 'leak'? YEAH! I gotta piss, so bad, I got me a ... ?
... a 'piss - hard - on' !!!"

" ... Those rose-bushes, back there, are for quick pisses, B I G M I K E !!! We don't want our club-house smellin' like a 'shit-house' !!!"

Kevin Schwartz , eyed me , suspiciously.

" ... Y ' Know, B I G M I K E ... ? I heard Jimmy Sullivan sayin' you wuz ... ?
... " QUEER " ... !!! "

I hurried off, over to the rose-bushes, to expel my foul bodily fluids, and bent my raging, semi-erect member, back inside my "SEARS" brand "jockey-shorts." When I returned to the club-house, the other three boys were smoking like the fiends of Hell.

"... Hey ? B I G M I K E ... You ever smoke, before? Be honest, now, don ' t lie . I bet you never did it."

Jimmy mocked me in his most seductive, feminine voice.

" ... Wanna try it, just this once?"

My will-power, was weakening ...

" ... It's not like you're gonna 'catch' somethin' from me ... like ... Cancer ... "

I could resist no longer! Jimmy slowly removed the stick from between pursed coral-pink lips, his saliva, still glistening on its end, and proffered it to me.

"... You WANT it ... I can see it in your eyes ... take it ... "

He pressed it up against my mouth ... a single thread of spit, still clinging from the filter, connected to his delicate mouth. I was his. He eased it between my trembling lips, thrusting inside, rubbing it against my all too willing tongue.

"... Suck on THIS, for a while, B I G M I K E ... !!!"

I was his, to command, and I sucked, and I sucked, and I sucked for all I was worth, drawing the smoke, deeper, and deeper down into my lugs; the musty taste of the loamy tobacco, accentuated with the piquant tang of menthol , mixed with Jimmy 's own man-juice, as he pressed the cigarette poised, between the graceful fingers of his dainty manicured hand, up against my face.

"... That's right, that's right! That's it, Baby! OH GOD! Open up your throat for more, you Little Nelly BITCH !"

The true addict, remembers the very first time, using a new drug of choice ... and confesses that he was "hooked," that very first time he ever tried it. That invisible line of addiction, crossed from the very start. I was addicted to cigarettes, from that very first experience ... but ... was it the Nicotine? Or, was it Jimmy's bedroom-eyes, that was the "monkey-on-my-back"? I spent that Summer, locked in the bathroom, ruminating over the ramifications of "Greek Love," paperback "PENGUIN CLASSIC" edition of Plato' s "Symposium," in one hand, COCK, in the other, the virtual image of Jimmy Robertson's sweet, sweet tight little bum, dancing in my mind's eye, "whacking-off," furiously, while huffing and puffing on pack, after pack of
"KOOL MENTOL 100 ' S."

[ B A M !!! B A M !!! B A M !!! ]

"... M I C H A E L !!! Stop that! Stop doing "That," inside there !!! You'll go blind !!!"

( "... Too late, too late ... !!! ")

"... You' ll Stunt your growth ... !!!"

( "W H O O P S !!!")

All good things, must eventually come to an end. The "salad-days" of Youth, are over, gone forever.

Jimmy Robertson graduated to "cruising" Van Courtlandt Park Lake, at night, looking
for older men, to support his two carton a week "KOOL MENTOL 100 ' S" habit. At age 17, my father signed me into the United States Coast Guard Boot Camp, as an alternative to drug rehab. There, I was introduced to the ritual of the "smoke break."

"... Smoke 'em, if ya got 'em , boys !!!"

My shipmates would whip out Polaroids of their girlfriends, in bikinis, and sexy, skimpy, revealing lingerie, as they puffed away on their "MARLBOROS." All I had in my wallet was a strip of stark black & white photos, from Woolworth's snapshot booth, of Jimmy Robertson, staring at the lens, working on a "KOOL MENTHOL 100."

I quit "cold-turkey."

by Big Mike

This story, in a slightly different, perhaps little lengthier format, originally appeared in Big Mike's 81 Pounds (Pretty Pollution Press).

Big Mike

BIG MIKE is Bronx-born Emergeny Room RN now residing in Bayside Queens. An unrivaled story teller he reveals just how gritty the underbelly of New York City can get in his critically acclaimed collections of emergency room and childhood recollections 81 Pounds and Sibling Rivalry both from Pretty Pollution Press.

Befriend BigMike Logan on FaceBook at http://http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1007153492

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