Between the first breath of your life and your last
there should be moments that lead you astray,
beckon you, wrap you around their fingers,
and tug you into corners of intrigue and temptation.
Cigar smoke wafting out of an open door as you go by,
lamplight glowing on a burnished snifter of brandy
held by an elegant man’s hands, long and tapered and strong.
In the corner, a black man pounds out ragtime jazz on ivory keys.
A bedroom with a naked cowboy stretched out on the bed,
wearing only his boots, a Stetson perched high, and a big smile.
The cigar smoke from his stogie rises like swirling ropes.
In the corner, an old radio blares out county and western music.
Cigar smoke blowing mirages over the cabaret tables,
long white satin gloves, pearls, diamonds and lace,
whisperings and secret smiles and long looks over martini glasses
In the corner, a sax player blows blue notes up to the velvet sky.
The young man outside the wooden cigar hut in Miami,
leaning against the wall, indolently smoking one of his cigars.
lets his eyes wander all over you before raising his cigar in a salute.
In the corner, an old man pats out a soft Latin rhythm on his bongos.
Between the first breath of your life and your last,
you should always be willing to be lead astray
Your soul learns lessons from its wanderings
into the smokey corners of intrigue and temptation.
***
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