Cute girls smoke cigars.
They cough at cigarette fumes
But embrace the halos of cigar smoke
That billow around them.
They turn their noses at hookas, pot and e-cigs
While they puff away at the long,
Slow-burning sticks with cherry coals.
They claim to taste cherry, or cocoa or walnuts
In the unfurling tobacco leaves,
In the bitter side of their realities.
“Real women smoke cigars,”
One girl’s father once said.
But when her cigar-smoking mother
Rolled her eyes, he snickered in play
And his non-smoking daughter-in-law
Walked away.
Cute girl’s father has no taste for Avenger movies
Or football games, no taste for
Scaling mountains or hunting
As other fathers do.
He prefers cigars and books,
And cute girl does too.
