A Pint of Philtre
We will all be of an age –
with a tattered life in our
fou minds in a hinterland
of mistakes – a drunk will
slump across café tables
& sleep it off as rushing
trucks slick gutters & as
miscreants drink forever
under sodium lights – In
daytime’s honest pitch it
squints & rolls over [& by
age best set in biography
& not online we squirm] –
some days life’ll undo it-
self by a noxious potion
by which we find love or
we fall apart – supping it
all is not now an answer