Me and Mr Debussy

Hung over like a broken bridge
in this florescent
rectangle
i'm gazing at a ceiling
designed by a
minimalist

my head screams
my eyes drip

at the caffeine addicts
in my immediate vision


i could have a cigarette
from my
overcoat
with its
loose change
and dark
secrets

but i don't smoke
these days


so i'll wait for my baby
in the Clair de
Lune
with Mr Debussy
and the coughing