Fließpapier

I am a man who went to buy blottingpaper
but did not come back with blottingpaper.

I am a man who went to buy blottingpaper
but came back with a cigarbox.

I am a man who came back with a cigarbox
and no blottingpaper.

I am a man with blue hands, an empty box,
a broken friendship, a moulting head, a swelling
list of defects.

Still no blottingpaper. Still bluehanded.

I’m a smoker a drinker a big–dick thinker I’m a drinker a smoker a red’hot poker
in the eye of your childhood and your mother loved cigars like a real man should.

Sometimes a cigar is just wrapped–up leaves.
Sometimes I forget to buy blottingpaper.