Tuesday, June 20, 2006


19 June 2006, 12:37 AM

I enjoyed a smoke tonight.
It may raise your brow for me to say
I need this pipe, but I do, for now.

I need something that makes you
smile, shake your head, question my wisdom;
something you wouldn't do, that I would,
just to make it clear to you (or me)
that I can choose it against you
and your better judgment.

Ah, the adolescence I never experienced:
the drive to disobey or rebel
that I never indulged back then-
it still exists, lives, breathes inside of me,
and I grasp at times for ways to give it voice,

though the time for breaking free of parental
authority is long past. I still feel this dire
need to throw back the Bourbon;
foolishly stand the ground you give so freely.

I am not deceived.
My rebellion is milder by far than I imagine.
I spend a great deal of time blowing smoke
as you stand by and applaud my voice,
regardless of where I find it-
in a poem or a pipe
or a shot of Woodford Reserve.

No comments:

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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