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Description
I smoke the whole box of cigarettes in one day. Does this make me a man? I only coughed once or twice. I got use to it after that. Does that make me a man? I chugged three bottles of beer in one minute. My head hurts, but I can try for four. Does this make me a man? I feel light-headed. I share the fifth bottle with the girl next to me. Does this make me a man? We had sex. It was unprotected, but it didn't matter. Does this make me a man? I don't know who she is. Does it matter?
It is morning. Near me she lays. I still don't know who she is. My head is thumping it hurts so bad. Does this mean I'm a man? She's awake. She doesn't remember me. She doesn't know if I was good or not. Truth be told, I don't know either. Am I a man now? She dresses, and so do I. I give her a cigarette from a new box, the one on the table by the bed. In the car, I drive. She wants to go home, forget all she remembers, and never see me again. Am I yet a man? A puff of smoke blinds me, her cigarette. I cannot see, with a throbbing headache and an agitated girl next to me. I crash.
I lay in a casket, staring at the roof of the church. Too bad, I never learned if I had become a man.

Description
I smoke the whole box of cigarettes in one day. Does this make me a man? I only coughed once or twice. I got use to it after that. Does that make me a man? I chugged three bottles of beer in one minute. My head hurts, but I can try for four. Does this make me a man? I feel light-headed. I share the fifth bottle with the girl next to me. Does this make me a man? We had sex. It was unprotected, but it didn't matter. Does this make me a man? I don't know who she is. Does it matter?
It is morning. Near me she lays. I still don't know who she is. My head is thumping it hurts so bad. Does this mean I'm a man? She's awake. She doesn't remember me. She doesn't know if I was good or not. Truth be told, I don't know either. Am I a man now? She dresses, and so do I. I give her a cigarette from a new box, the one on the table by the bed. In the car, I drive. She wants to go home, forget all she remembers, and never see me again. Am I yet a man? A puff of smoke blinds me, her cigarette. I cannot see, with a throbbing headache and an agitated girl next to me. I crash.
I lay in a casket, staring at the roof of the church. Too bad, I never learned if I had become a man.