sleeping off a dreadful drunk

he must wonder what street he's on


and what blasphemies he tossed at the sky

to blame it for his weaknesses


before he passed out in the sweaty heat

to agitations and dreamless half-consciousness


so my love isn't perfect enough

it'll have to do in spite of what God demands


but a large part of me is grateful

I'm not in his worn shoes


though pity is large also but sadly weak

and I may find that out


one of these lives if I'm not careful...either way

he is suffering...I will  suffer...from whatever God demands...



Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.