or maybe just I alone
that a drunk would be the world's greatest lover
from the outside in, it feels this way
I've known so many
drunks
winos
sauceheads
men submerged in the smokey pool halls close to the tracks
belching drink orders through the bites of lunch they had
their bedrooms, alone with truth and a bottle
then maybe a few friends show up
bad memories, all line up
linear like
perverse views, waxed with pinesol or cooking wine
the lowly rubbing alcohol rusting their gut
what do you get when you add 30 years?
bottom toothed bummers, chimps aboard a constant stretch of reality
so dedicated to a blind destruction, a lot like love
a dive into the chest of another
to wash yourself with them
the worst of them
the best
the froth beneath their lid and of their crotch
as they share that crotch with others and their froth bears no fruit for you
you're just an elevated roommate
like a sobbing consumer exploring the beer cave at the citgo
so courageous you are
to love your drink
to love your woman
blink only when they blink
so you don't miss a glance
the same as a drunk and a sip
it can't be missed
No comments:
Post a Comment