In a parking lot of a park

I watched a man in a car

savor an big fat cigar,

inhaling bright magic,

blowing smoke rings

with gusto.

The red tip of his cigar,

a reminder of how much light

there is in darkness.

He explained his wife

couldn’t stand the stink

and sent him out to his car.

I thought of Sigmund Freud

who smoked 20 cigars a day

even after heart palpitations,

chest pains and 33 operations

for cancer in his mouth and jaw.

Freud claimed it was a necessary

catalyst for him to do his work.

He craved the very best Liliputanos.

All his apostles smoked cigars

since he was irritated by non-smokers.

Smoking a cigar must stimulate

a buried memory of being held

and nursed by Mother, falling asleep

in a sated state of bliss.