I don't have any big vices.

Cigarettes and beer in just the right amount,
because I'm a salaried employee
who has to wake up every day at six in the morning.
I don't complain about anything and that's the most vile way
to complain about everything. When I wake up I'm almost
always happy. Although more than once I wake up with a migraine.
Then I have an Actron 600 for breakfast and I stay still
waiting for it to pass.
In the closet there's a guitar that I never learned to play.
In the library there are books that accuse me of being lazy
and I walk past them covering my eyes.
My pets have died with remarkable frequency.
Sometimes I leave a dirty version of myself in the shower
and I leave the bathroom swearing that this time I'll be good.
the other day i felt in my flesh all the wonderful metaphysics
of living, i was thinking about Korn and engineers and the 273
stopped at a traffic light then i saw the mother
who was carrying a pregnancy and another baby on her shoulder
and was walking from window to window offering flowers.
then one must be thankful for the migraine
and the students who take the subject and violently slam the classroom doors. there are no great vices.
there are only great cities. little demons
and a drunken hope of years more beautiful than a kiss.
a dandelion is growing in the interstices
of these tiles.