Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A drunkard, afloat

Bottle of wine after bottle of wine,
I drink every drop,
Licking the rim of the glass,
An example of efficiency,
A leviathan of consumption,
And to what ends?

I am shaking,
Shaking hands, bottles, glasses;
Unsteady at sea,
I pull my nerves to lift the masts,
But no man can blow hard enough
To move his ship across the sea.

I ask the questions
I should have long ago:
Why am I here
and where am I going?
But in the morning I forget,
I tire of work and regrets,
and I resign myself to the sea.