After spending the week in the bilge of a boat
grinding down its rusted guts
till Asa and I were sodden monsters
as if in a mouldering photo
crawling out like ghosts antiqued.
I was then wrapped up in a drunk
met by a past girlfriend and her friends
that rambled like the song of a mockingbird
across the city of Seattle.
We drank a ferocious volume
and a competition in drinking got serious
Then we spoke in nonsense and pretended it was real
and the sun came up and we pretended it hadn’t
Then we spoke real things and pretended they were nonsense
and my body felt like the trunk of a bristlecone pine
ancient and stiff
bending my legs barely at the hips. I swayed along.
For some reason I was proud. I felt as if there was great tradition in my state
as if we had tapped into something ancient.
we all were part of an endless chain that could not be altered by the march of civilization or of time. No matter what happened.
We could all live life sitting down.We could all drink through our eyes. Or we could all see the information of everything all the time.
But We would all still be human and feel the need sometimes to burn the candle at both ends,
and walk stiffly out into the day.
