Expat Life

From the smoking cubicles
Down the smoking stairs
Through the smoking streets
Where everything reeks
Curiosity stores lead me home
Past outside sleepers, PJs and mats
The dog’s ran away, he’s not coming back
Through the gate’s smoking guard
The papers he’s read, under and over
A ghost on his screen
And the things he’s seen
Working, shirking, lurking
Past dog shit green
Into a lobby cool and clean
Elevator, lift, take me home
I don’t want to be alone