There will be dragons

Sometimes I seem to balance out.
My desire to do
with my desire to not.
It is here
in my dirty room
where two bottles
on the opposite side of the room
signal the line of trash
where my desire seems
to split.
“I want to lay down
in a freestanding bathtub
and just smoke a cigarette
drink Whiskey
in warm water –
Turn the temperature up
so the room
fills with fog”
“That’s a stupid dream”
my friend said and threw his can
across the room.
“Is it?”,
I asked calmly
in the back of my mind knowing
what it is
I want to say.
“What’s yours?”
“Become a doctor”
“And why?”, I ask.
“It is meaningful”
“And other things lose their meaning
in front of your great profession choice?”
“Helping people is important”
“For who?”
“So you work
To decorate your grave with flowers”
“And it should,
be you?”
“I am capable”
I hold back answering
and laughed silently behind the curtain
about the image
of having a doctor sit in front of me
and threw my empty can
on a pile of aluminum.
The beer can crashed
and the sound
It was beautiful

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