Smoke I

A man and a cigarillo
I sit between one of each.
One is mine, the other is not
I blow a cloud of smoke in his direction.
I wonder what it is about
a man and a cigarillo.
A friend of mine sent me into
paroxysms of ecstasy
and memory
last night, as he
smoked and dealt a hand of cards.
So tonight I sit dressed like
a man
and rest between my teeth
a cigarillo.
The scent of my childhood
wafts away as I crush the embers.

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©Darusha Wehm  
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