i have a cuban cigar box filled wih cigarettes
enough to last at least a week
the time it takes to work through
an existential crisis
the smell of springtime comes sooner
in the countryside
than in the metropolis that is my life
a band of belgian gypsies are
keeping my stomach full and my mind occupied
with conspiracy theories and crafts
and for the briefest moment
i feel at ease with my world
and my place in it
but human drama will re-enter
tomorrow or the next day
back in the big city
i resign myself to relapse into
self-destrucion
hoping with it comes my rebirth