[wpaudio url=”http://www.bluestemmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Have-a-Cigar-Have-a-Habana.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]
There were days, lazy days
in early Spring when you played
so long your head went light.
Charles Denby’s air-vented head
sat on the maple credenza,
held the bills paid for 1957.
Uncle Tony sucked a raw egg out
through a pinhole made with his knife.
then let out a yelp like a hungry coyote.
Dropped the yellow cat’s-eye
into the hole in the lid of Phillies Sweets,
dug in left pocket and took out shooter.
Two punched tickets to the Museum
of Science and Industry, bus tokens
line the bottom of a Muriel Magnum.
Hook shot after hook shot after…
till the sun went down, fading
across the lane with a runner.
Breaking into the basement of the Selky’s
abandoned house next door,
finding a Beck’s and a Dutch Masters.
Becky climbing the Mulberry Tree
looking all the way up her skirt,
with her standing on my shoulders.
Climb onto Otto Schmidt’s
homemade mule drawn cart,
pitching corncobs into the hog pen.
Handelsgold, Sonnenreifer Tabake,
a bit dry, but clean, smooth burn
with a slight aftertaste of corn silk.
Fabrica de Tabacos, Habanos,
decades searching for a good smoke,
Mercantile, Red Dot, 5 cent Idle Hours