This poem was inspired by Have a Cigar by Pink Floyd. Let me know if there’s any songs you think I should write about!
The Smoke Shop
Built in the mid-seventies by locals,
the cigar shop, which was then run by Floyd,
has been seedy since it changed ownership
and began stocking slimmer cigarettes.
Seduced by the cheap, efficient menthols,
the racks of rolling paper were replaced
by these individual plastic packs
of factory cut tobacco product.
No more do we see their lumpy cigars,
passed between the loving hands of groupies,
nor taste that first lyrical inhale
that wove a shadowed lore into the smoke.
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