WORKING AT MY DESK

a poem about being a writer

 

Smoking at my desk,
I ash into the whale.
I have a cup of tea
And a glass of water,
And the whale is in between
In a ceramic sea of filth
Where the cigarette points at me
Filter up, and I pause,
To smoke it; it glows,
And then I put it back
And write again (like now).

Sometimes I write and smoke at the same time
The cigarette dangling out the corner of my mouth,
This makes me feel like a real writer
I’m doing it now, (but not now.)
It’s hard though.

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