where the air

Psychiatry 2: Student Daze – Poem 17 

when it rains out there
we smoke
in here

thirty of us

the dayroom fills
smoke descending from the ceiling

until the only air available
is gasped
by lying full length
on the floor

but still
we smoke

© Frank Prem, 2016

Next: to pharmacy for tubes

Notes on: where the air


12 thoughts on “where the air

      • Still there. Try to quit every once in a while. Went 19 days once about 20 years ago. I count it a good day when I can get past 8 am without. Hate it, but must secretly love it cuz I still do it. My husband, sister, bro in law, friends have all moved on. So I am the stinky black sheep holding on to the security blanket. It is like that other poem you wrote basically saying, you get a smoke for everything. The only reward a smoker wants is a cigarette…and some coffee.

        Liked by 1 person

      • eeuw – the stinky black sheep!! LOL

        Bad luck for not being able to give it up. Apart from anything else, it’s too expensive over here – government taxes go up every 6 months. Around a dollar a fag now, or close to that.

        I work with people who are pretty much all pensioners, but there’s no giving up regardless of cost or consequence.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Nice one! I love puns.

        I roll my own, so at 80 cents a pack..money isn’t a deterrent. But ya…I can see the pensioners making the decision to continue. When I worked at the homeless clinic, cigarettes were more important than food most times. Heroin though…that topped the smokes. People would die for that stuff. Very sad situation indeed!

        Liked by 1 person

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