How Poetic!

How poetic!
I lived alone in Berlin last winter.
I made abstract paintings and listened to Bob Dylan,
Drank red wine and smoked cigarettes at the bar with my friends.
How poetic!
Now it's Spring.
Birds are chirping,
As I lay like a lady on this big bed in a hotel room in Alberta.
How poetic!
Trees for days.
Unrequited love.
Empty pockets.
How poetic!
Why this maudlin heart?
All the girls I love are in New York.

All the boys too.
How poetic!
What the hell am I doing here?
I am no mountain man!
I want neon and pretty things that sparkle like polished silver.
How poetic!