Tobacco is a vain, simple enjoyment
elevated to the great worth of an addiction
It scowls at the radiance of raw health and bustle
with the eyes of an inmate
discovered burning from a dark corner
Tobacco is the frank pursuit of self-possessed decline
in the relief of a chain of microscopic interludes
The sticky green leaf wagging in the August haze
the yellow-brown hands cured to old skin
up beyond the October fog
promise a skidmark of seasoning
an incense of shut and thick sweet spaces
on top of the crude bright air of the senses
It fills up the emptiness around hands
like a post between the shoulder blades during conversation
It ripens the smoker beyond a near awareness
and his gaze will go through clouds into the distance
Like all drugs there is the misery of cloying compulsion
like all pleasures the laurels of remorse
Edward Wright Haile
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tobacco/
