8/30

[If anyone could tell me where I "borrowed" this form from, I'd appreciate it. I know that I've read a poem of repeated infinitive clauses somewhere, but can't remember where to save my life. Cheers!]

Cigar

To chew the end of this stinking privilege.

To grow the fecund jungle of white vines

about you. To be lost in it.

To ignore the symbolism. To undo a thing

completely by overdoing. To stop when the fire

walks too close to you. To take your coffee black.

To breathe a flame-red rescue beacon.

To consider every breath.

To be shade-grown, box-pressed, hand-made.

To wear a ring with the crest

of your family. To be swaddled

in a mild Connecticut wrapper. To be a smuggler

and an expert. To light

the ardent fuse that burns down

to the bomb of you.