Cu dedicatie pentru fumatori, pentru cei care s-au lasat de fumat, pentru cei care au facut o pauza de fumat, pentru cei care vor sa se lase si pentru cei care nici macar nu vor sa incerce….
(pentru cei care intra direct pe blog…la sfarsitul poemului veti vedea si versiunea animata a acestuia. si nu e rea deloc)
The best cigarette
There are many that I miss
having sent my last one out a car window
sparking along the road one night, years ago.
The heralded one, of course: after sex, the two glowing tips
now the lights of a single ship;
at the end of a long dinner with more wine to come
and a smoke ring coasting into the chandelier;
or on a white beach, holding one with fingers still wet from a swim.
How bittersweet these punctuations of flame and gesture;
but the best were on those mornings
when I would have a little something going in the typewriter,
the sun bright in the windows,
maybe some Berlioz on in the background.
I would go into the kitchen for coffee
and on the way back to the page,
curled in its roller,
I would light one up and feel its dry rush mix with the dark taste of coffee.
Then I would be my own locomotive,
trailing behind me as I returned to work little puffs of smoke,
indicators of progress, signs of industry and thought, the signal that told the nineteenth century it was moving forward.
That was the best cigarette,
when I would steam into the study full of vaporous hope and stand there,
the big headlamp of my face pointed down at all the words
in parallel lines.