Removed

Just when I laid on my beige leather couch, lit Montecristo and thought to myself; “I make money,” “I am home,” “I can go to sleep now!”

Life removed me from the couch,
removed me from the city, removed me from the country

Now I have Paris.
I have no couch.
I write my Thesis.
I read Jacque Derrida.
I don’t have any money.

I am happier