The ad said room to let
Those ten meter living spaces
In the old building built in the seventies
tiny bedsits under the town's big brothel
The neons would keep me up past the early hours
Reminding me of the lively nature of human need for connection
Maybe even the sound of the loudest of them making its way through walls
But it was cheap a lifeline for a simple writer like me, engulfed by the city
I'd even have a small window to see the remnants of a horizontal winter sun
A bed a desk and old block three channeled t.v a mini fridge teaspoon of hope
Just enough space to keep me from the laughing cord a noose
So I circled the ad and folded the page sparking the half cigarette i'd saved
With all of that business going on above maybe i'd get some inspiration
Here's to the neons as the sour fume embraced my lungs
Ember flared and I packed my stuff
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