The smoke licks my fingertips
as I light the cigar
a fix of nicotine on a bad day
a way to keep the bad thoughts at bay
A long pull fills my mouth
with a bitter taste of artificial grape
A low for me I guess you could call it
A hypocrite I guess you could call me

Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have

It took a bit of courage
Whiskey and Cigar
I spent the day working on it
Sitting in my local bar

I planned it out precisely
I'd drop by her place by eight
I kept building up my courage
I made sure I wasn't late

She let me in and kissed me
I lit a smoke and grabbed a drink
She went into the bedroom
I had five minutes more to think

I poured myself another
Put the smoke upon the glass
I went into the bedroom
And then it came to pass

It started with three little words
She started as my friend
And now again, three little words
Put this friendship at an end

The three words were I love you
And those words made her cry
The three words now were different
Sorry, and goodbye

I left the glass upon the table
The cigar, I left that too
I left and she was crying
It was what I had to do

The courage that I needed
Had expired as I spoke
It was resting on her table
A glass of whiskey and a smoke

A yellow bandanna
the smell of bon fire
and the feeling of freedom

cold water on hot days
cigars on the porch
and your arm around me

But spring has come
and with it
a whole new summer