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Cigar

October 25, 2008  Author: Anthony Pacheco Category: The Craft   1 Comment

I can hear them making love in the other room
It is late, but not late enough
They woke me up
In those romance novels, I am supposed to go peek
Or listen and touch myself
Or a dozen other things written by someone
Who forgot what it was like to be sleepy
And woken up by someone else’s pleasure

Perhaps I am older than I think I am
Because I am annoyed
I put another pillow over my head
Now the soft sighs are softer
I think of it as a perverted lullaby
A snort of distain, and I am asleep

Dear God I am awake again
I started fishing at five, five!
“Grrrrr!”
I pause, the house is silent
So I wonder, what woke me up?

Then I smell it. Cigar smoke.
I sigh. Can’t really fault a man for wanting a cigar
After a night of… whatever… with my aunt
Ah, but he is alone, and my aunt probably asleep
Now I am less annoyed—now, I have plans!

On goes the poufy robe
I follow the smoke outside
The man seems surprised to see me
He is sting on the porch sipping brandy
And smoking a cigar. I go to the porch swing
And sit next to him.

I look at the man, and cannot help but compare
It is not nice of me, but I do. He is too skinny.
But he is a charismatic man. Powerful. Assured.
Manly.

“Hi,” he says.
“You smell like sex,
“Brandy, cigar and sex,” I say.
“Um,”
“I heard you making love,” I say.
“Well,”
“It’s horribly unfair for you to not bring your children to play with me!
“Who am I to play with?” I wail.
Okay, that may have been a little thick.

He sighs. “Sorry,” he says. The wrong thing.
“Everyone knows why you are here. So stop hiding!”
“Are you lonely?” he asks.
An honest question.
“Maybe.”
A dishonest answer.
“Look,” I say. “Make love in the daytime. Or the morning when we’ll be fishing.”
“Who will watch over you all?”
I give him a funny look. “Watch? Whatever for?”
“What if a cougar or a bad man comes along?”
I laugh. “Oh. I’ll just shoot it. Him. Her.”
He considers. “Let’s negotiate. You wash my car, I’ll bring my kids.”
“What? It’s just going to get muddy going back!”
“No car wash, no kids.”
“You’re just trying to prove you’re in charge!”
Men! I am angry!
“I am holding onto all the cards. Tell you what, clean the inside.”
“Yes,” he says, “the inside all nice and clean will be good.”

I pout
I harrumph
I agree
Then I smile
We spit on our palms and shake hands
Back to bed for me

In the day time
Good Lord above, this car is filthy!
Then I realize what they are doing
While I clean the car

I put some credit in the smart column
For both of us.

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