Cigar Smoke

Cigar Smoke

Cameron Lynde

No one had to explain the celebratory nature of cigars to me.
I put two and two together.
And I believed what I disagreed with.
I saw chain-smokers seeing success.
Small swirls chained to legs,
The glow was warming.
The taste was acquired.
It went well with bourbon.
It smelled like success.

It felt like victory between my fingertips.
It looked like the ideal idol persona,
Personified in a person and nothing higher,
You could smell it on my clothes.
I could feel it on my lips,
The place I wanted it for so long.
I waited for this.
And I couldn’t wait for this.

I wanted more,
But it tasted less.

Tasteless
I took one more pull
A million cigars ago.
It got out of hand,
The smoke felt second hand,
I did it again as if I never did it right.
Refusing to wait until the time was right
I said, “at least it wasn’t cigarettes!”
I celebrated a void accomplishment.

They told me not to listen to chain-smokers;
Not to trust what comes from their lungs.
Cigar smoke comes from the heart, not the mouth, 

So I snuff it out,
Press it into concrete, and throw away the rest.
Don’t let it rest.
A roll of tobacco can’t save you,
Save it for the celebration.
Save it for the celibate.
Savor it when it is out of your fingertips.
Even then, let it be a celebration, not an accomplishment.

I threw the rest of my cigar into the ravine.

Wish I threw further,
But I threw.
And You,
Smell like my smoke,
Burned by my embers,
What a view.

The cigar didn’t taste like heaven.
Heaven, give me a taste for You.

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Cameron Lynde
Poet & IT Technician

Photography by Davide Ragusa