Something, Someone

The
lingering scent
of
the dainty cigarillo
drenched
in kahlua
puts me
in a different
mindset.

I’m
warm
with a
familiar feeling
of
something—
someone.

Exactly what
I do not
know.

But as I light
and slowly
take in a deep
and prolonged
taste
I sit back
against my spider-webbed
front porch,
feel the cool cement
against my thighs
and watch
as the locals
go about their evenings
as the sun begins
to set—
and just a touch
of fall has made
itself known.

I do not
yearn
or need
for another
to be
near me.

Damn–
finished another.

So I get
just one more—
because they
came in a
four-pack.

I repeat
the ritual,
this time
with a glass
of blended
Spanish loveliness
by my side.

Now I’m
cheating
on the cigarillo,
poor baby.
I should stop
right there.

But alas
I sip
and taste deeply
well into the
evening—
enough for a
hoarse rawness
to flood my
voice when
I awake.
A reminder
of what,
or whom—

No answer still.