He sits alone
And speaks in gruff
Of another’s tomb
And life’s craft
One tall glass
A short one, too
Some trails of crust
No scarf no shoes
A winter night
He closes near
Hands tight
Grabbing beer
Not a crow-
A dirty dove
A man I could know
but never love
Christmas carols
Faintly outside
A distant world
From where he hides
- Me.
