Brown Leaf Meditations

She tells me that if I smoke it
I'll forgo her kisses this night
so, I think on it o'er a dram
consider its earthy brown
torpedo shape, but mostly, it's
Maker, dark of skin, dark
of eye, rolling the sacred
leaf in the Havana sweat
of her sweet inner thigh
I pass it under my nose
breathe her in...she drank
wine, liquid rubies, the night
before, sat in a cheap cafe
with friends, smoking slight
cigarillos, slender as their
skirted, belted waists, and
talking that untrue woman talk
simple lies stitched in lies
their looks, their thoughts,
rising in the ocean air
and later when they left she
made drunken love in passing
to a well-moneyed Gringo
and later still, sweeter love
to her unknowing husband
curling into him that night
and rising in the morning
to make his breakfast
sipping hot black coffee
behind an over white smile
before walking to work
and making this one cigar
while pondering the dark
parts of life, giving her
womanly perfumes to the
thirsty leaf before sending it
north to my waiting hand

She tells me that if I smoke it
I will forgo her kisses this night
but I set down my empty glass
light the eager, blushing match
knowing some kisses can wait

by Gordon R Menzies

Comments (1)

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