Typical

i feel so comfortable in a wheelchair, i'd just need a cupholder & a bag for books & pot & cigarettes & a little carboard box to beg for change & i'd sit reading apathetic little poems out of a little black book in some dull droning voice making it all seem so typical but then i'd just want someone to push me, so i'd ask some girl, the one who gave me bills, to push me down the street a while & i'd bum a smoke & she'd buy me coffee & i'd thank her & she'd never ask about it & who knows what i would say anyway & she'd think she was really doing something good until she'd see me later that day walking out of a bookstore with a face full of cigarette & then she'd find something to say & i might offer her a cigarette & wash my hands of the whole thing.