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!