when i was twenty nine
i learned i could go out at night
and bring home poems
instead of women:
at the street corner
where giggling groups pass,
in the residue between
the bricks,
taxi wheels as
grind to a halt,
weird fizz you can't get
bottom of a strong porter
glass
stuck to the side,
slouched over a bar
head thump
bench seat
feet hang off the curb
strong porter
when i was twenty nine
and bring home poems