For twenty three years

there was a leak in the roof

I stuffed it with a plastic bag

when we first moved in

forgot then spent ten years

writing and drinking smoking

while it endlessly rained

mornings hungover on terraces

wandering the east afternoons

leaving the lotus eaters

to laugh alone

one night around eleven

I went out they were still there

what are you doing here they asked

the dumb music blared

I was bored I said

of writing and drinking smoking

no one knew I wrote