Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Parable of the Drunken Man

Coming home hither, staggering
Through a door that isn't his
Into another life, left open, seeing
His daughter and the boy next door
Melting like obscene snow men
(One pale white, the other dog-piss yellow,
and himself red, flushed with rage)
Falling apart, no longer an
Unique snowflake in the melding,
Just flesh sundered, the moment
Passed and gone, and the drunk man
Throwing up over them and the bed,
The only statement that night that he
Remains proud of years later.

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