J=How can a poor man stand such times&;#063;

I'm poor again not that I was rich
but what I was able to wrench
from seven days a week in a mild hell
has gone from my profligate wooly hands

when they accelerate particles
in fifteen mile long donuts
under a swiss mountain
they may as well be measuring
the calculations I make
between cigarette papers
and a copy of the guardian

it gets so finicky and precise at times
the seventy four pence
is a whole sequence of summits
taking place amongst the delegates
of my reduced needs

where I once needed meals out
taxi rides easy bonhomie
when rounds seemed so petty
the times when I was sure
three bars would come up
all gone

it's not poverty
because I have
what I have
nothing more
nothing less

but I have developed
an annoying stoic tic
which makes me smile cheaply
and say it's all for the best