Old Smokey

by

Phil Pochurek

I remember how mad mom use to get
When her cat would come running
Just to sit on Dad’s lap,
And together smoke his favorite cigar.
Whiffing Partagas with Aurturo and Hoya
Was much better than chewing on
Mouse heads under the car.
She use to get so mad at the two of them
For making all that disgusting smoke
But they didn’t care
And filled the air with the scent
Of their favorite cigar.
To them this was heaven.
Sunsets and brandy out on the porch.
Just the two of them and their favorite torch
Dominican, Honduran, or Cuban.
This was their time out.
No Pc’s, no phones, just taste and smell.
Pure man stuff was their ticket to hell.
That’s what they were all about.
But mom still loved them both
In spite of their vice.
He was a good man
And old Smokey was good at catching mice.
Those moments they shared
Were priceless no doubt.
Just the cat and my Dad
His cigar and a drought
Amber was his favorite.
Old Smokey just came for the cigars
That’s all he cared about.
Those are the times that I remember
When a hint of cigar smoke tends to linger
Hanging hauntingly in the air.
It takes me back to the two of them
Out on the porch like they always were
Just as if I were there.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at I’ve become invisible
by: Gavin Bernas
from: Tong Yeong, South Korea

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