I smoke two packs of cigarettes <br />A day maybe three or more if I’m not counting <br />I wake up at six a.m. compose a hell of a coffee <br />Smoke and leave for work. <br /> <br />I take the tram which brings me through <br />Factories, closed for twenty years now. <br />Deserted dusty dirty compounds. <br /> <br />I was raised in a village <br />The hills and the pastures <br />Were my playground grass <br />Trees wild rabbits I remember <br />Those rains <br />When you could smell the forests <br />For days and mother called <br />’Dinner’ she knew I was always around. <br /> <br />But my grass became the concrete <br />My trees blockhouses of fifteen <br />Stocks at least. <br />People in the city don’t know my name <br />Or greet me, don’t know who my father is <br />Even if we’re neighbours, <br />We pass each other like strangers <br />Staying silent in the elevators.<br /><br />Marton Dezso<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/about-me-i/
