Crash Pads

Apartment dwellers often wish
They had a bit more space,
Yet there exist some studios
Few humans could embrace.

I read about these dwellings,
Some 200 feet or less;
The occupants were smiling,
Proud of their New York address.

They didn’t have much clutter;
Every object had its place.
Most used them just for sleeping –
Not quite home, but more home base.

“The city is my living room,
So all that I possess
Fits neatly in my tiny space,”
One took time to express.

To each his own, I always say,
But there’d be not a trace
Of normalcy inside of me –
I’d be a basket case

If I were forced to live there
Or just visit once too often;
I’ll settle for such real estate
When I am in my coffin!