The only dependent is him

The only dependent is him

Nothing is moved

To remain

Everything travels away

The Earth turns

He would rather it stopped

Stepping off

Has an appealing sound

Even through the bind

Of old age and alcohol

The adventure

Of imminent destruction

Demands attention

He carries

A quart

Wrapped in brown paper

Drinking furtively

Fooling no-one

The last time he lit a match

His coat caught fire

Burned half his beard away

Singed his eyebrows

He has the look

Of the perennially startled,

He is.

Nothing in life

Is logical

It took too long to establish

A protocol

Of avoidance

The scars he bears

Are proof of a thin skin

Perhaps he was born to fail

Even as he strove

For success

Perhaps every journey

Ends in disappointment

When the destination

Is just another

Station on the way

One more night

In the shelter

If he can stay sober

They serve Christmas dinner

With all the trimmings

It is enough to choke

The self-pity

Right out through his mouth

It tastes of stomach acid

Burning a hole in his soul

You could drive a wedge through

And he laughs

At the thought

Of a golfing metaphor

When the only club he knows

Has twelve steps

Not eighteen holes.