Ode to a Cigarette (with apologies to Keats, Shelley, et al.) All I can say is I must have been in the throes of nicotine withdrawal when I wrote this. It’s good for a chuckle, if nothing else. Oh! Slender tube, you touch my lip As I kiss your filter tip And like a parched survivor sip To fill my mouth with your warm fragrant air. Oh! How my aching lungs do yearn. Oh! How my tired eyes do burn. How can zealots ask me to spurn Your flavor so fine, so beyond compare? I've loved you faithfully and long, Invested in your siren song. Now I hear that I've been wrong, You’ve harmed me beyond repair. With weakened heart and dark spots on my lung, Short of breath, and foul taste on my tongue, I contemplate your charms and wish I had not flung A pack of you away in my despair. And though you betrayed me and stole all my wealth, And though you enslaved me and ruined my health, I'll always be tempted to meet you with stealth, And crave you forever, this I swear. --Cat Dubie