I breathe in smoke

and become smoke

an inconsequential force

that pervades my environment

conquering it, overcoming it

assured in my comfort

and my distance from the world.

But is this living?

No! Instead

I need fresh air

sweet and invigorating

to purify my lungs.

Give me not a home but some green land

and rich earth.

I will stomp my boots

and my skin will sweat

and it will be be hard!

But it will be living.