Drunk Judgment

The world is wasted on you. Show us one clear time

beyond childhood (or the bottle) you spent your whole

self—hoarding no blood-bank back-up, some future aim

to fuel—or let yourself look foolish in reckless style

on barstool, backstreet or dancefloor, without a dim

image of your hamming hobbling you the whole while.

Voyeur to your own couplings, you never did come

with them, did you, even when you did? You said Hell

is details, when Hell was just the cave, the concave-

mirrored skull you dwelt inside, your left hand

polishing while the other shook to clinch a deal—

Provide, provide! Sure, in the end, like any soul

you were endless and yets—brave, deft with phrases, kind—

three cheers for you. Too closed to want what others love

you vetoed life—

                                                 were there other worlds to crave?