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Crash Pads
Apartment dwellers often wish
They had a bit more space,
Yet there exist some studios
Few humans could embrace.
I read about these dwellings,
Some 200 feet or less;
The occupants were smiling,
Proud of their New York address.
They didn’t have much clutter;
Every object had its place.
Most used them just for sleeping –
Not quite home, but more home base.
“The city is my living room,
So all that I possess
Fits neatly in my tiny space,”
One took time to express.
To each his own, I always say,
But there’d be not a trace
Of normalcy inside of me –
I’d be a basket case
If I were forced to live there
Or just visit once too often;
I’ll settle for such real estate
When I am in my coffin!
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