DECIDING TO STAY
It may have been time. Maybe.
1975. I decided to stay : drunk for
three days, foul for four more. I
slithered the street like a madman
disguised as nothing. Sleeping on
the steps at St. Thomas Church,
with the three other madmen nearby.
The noisiest things in my life that week
were the bottles tumbling down from
the old stone steps. The kid from Indiana,
on the other hand, died in his sleep,
and we all had to disperse.