Cigarette Break Poem by Dorit Tweig

I take a short break and dedicate it to smoking,
clouds overhead are gazing at me, mocking
I blow another ring; I'm a slave who's but a king

With a see-through cup of tea and a foggy pleasure
Upon a hectic day of labor, dawns a flash of boundless leisure
But in the end and evermore, a wave must succumb to the binding shore

Soot-blowing cars greet me outside - my act they aim to replace
But my rural rest shall not be bothered by these urban shapes of this place
As far as imagining parallel existence while reality eats me alive, I'm an ace

I choose a bench, a tree, a bird, yet I feel somewhat directed
Daydreams, thoughts, desires, yearns – an entire realm stands erected
I magnify inane incidents, and torment myself with the way I acted

The bird has become a forgotten adornment
My attempts to make sense of its sounds turned me dormant
I realized my moment was up, so I sighed while examining a close by ant

I place the half-full cup in front of my eyes, and kaleidoscopic sights smile
I'd rather view the world in fragments than run the extra mile.
Was he right he who said that no man is an isle?