A question intended only to provoke sarcasm
from fruitless lips, inspiring more verbal fire,
shamelessly exacted words from insipid mire.
For no other reason than a fragile ego
do I bother to breathe — thus primary worship! —
where friends and acquaintances become
like fleeting allies on the high seas of life.
Expiation for a life that’s a mere token
as if an indeterminate dying nation.
Yet to this nation of penetrable abode
where all flesh too easily betrays
the rich vermillion rivers sustaining it...
I recant to you of a Christmas Eve
where amongst last minute harried shoppers
an indisputable, swaggering drunk
tottered on the edge of the curb.
With clear vision from a Chinese restaurant,
I sat motionless, curious and watching intently
as his backside seemingly supported
the stoplight post turning to green.
Then miraculously, like a general
marching egotistically onto his demise
(here in the city of MacAuthur’s memorial)
this drunk rose up ramrod-straight
and with the last measure of dignity,
already worn off his physical appearance,
he posted towards the direction of the memorial
jaywalking across the street.
