Midnight smokers
John Clare Stokes
The men of my beginning days
were the best smokers I ever knew
with his end of day shot and smokes
East River Mountain behind us
I’d open my candy pack and we’d chill
selling Mustangs for Andy Clark
was hard work for Uncle Kermit
but Bluefield was cool
and soon we’d spread some
of Geneva’s apple butter
Up in sweltering Smyrna, Georgia
I’d pull up near the recliner chair
to pack the pipe and wait anxiously
for the sweet tobacco to ignite
see the smoke permeate the room
with the Braves on radio and Aunt Grace whistling
some Hurt Road Baptist hymn
Tell me again Uncle Curtis the story
How do you ask a girl if she likes chicken?
To hold out my arm and say,
Well take a wing?
.
Down in ole Sopchoppy Mr Emory Rudd
On the porch steps each morning
His match boxes and Prince Albert tins
Gifts waiting for a little tow head boy to play with
As back in the kitchen Mrs Mary stirred
over some bread pudding for the two
one packing a pipe and the other pretending too.
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