Roll the cancer
Fill lungs with it
Share mirth and laughter
What a rush.
I'll stand in the snow, shivering, smoking
Rather than be banal and dissect the obvious
In dull conversation
That hides in all of us.
If the choice is, live and die by what you love
Make mine a bagette of cigarettes
And bad taste guitar solos.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem