春節

january twenty-third
six o'clock
ante meridiem
i awake
eighteen floors high
a whole year older
none the wiser
and lower than ever
with a kink in my neck
that could rival
that of the
intermediate egret
writhing in pain
i can only laugh
at the irony
on this balcony
i let cold rain
streak down my cheeks
trying to light a cigarette
i discover that
both of my lighters
can't be bothered
it's monday
it's pouring
it's my my thirty-first birthday
writhing in pain
i can only laugh
at the irony
eighteen floors up
and lower than ever before
on the day of the chinese new year