I made no contract with death.
Still I’m immersed in it.
The day I was born it knew my name.
It does not forgive a soul.
It is imposing and
always calling twenty-four seven.
You make no bargains with death.
It comes in autumn and
becomes part of the wind that takes you.
When the wind stops death stops.
Clouds burst with rain in
the direction of your resting place.
I approach silence
with my shoes off.
I give it respect.
I don’t walk hard.
There is a time in
the day when I
don’t feel like walking
has to understand
that life goes on.
There will always be
a place for it.
Sometimes you need to
raise your voice, shout,
sing, even cry out.
Or one goes mad.
Tequila brought me down this road.
The accident, the fall, was all about
the tequila. The wife gone missing
with the children too was all tequila.
The gouged out eye was just a bar
fight after too much tequila. Things
get out of hand when you drink too
much. Tequila kicks your rear end.
The empty bank account was all
about the tequila. The job gone
fishing and drowning in a sea
of tequila. The nights behind bars
and in bars are because of
the tequila. The memory
problems and failing health
are all about me and tequila.