A Cenotaph Somewhere

He fucks better in his own bed
downplaying skill for the home team advantage.
He's still searching
for that lady's lost unmentionables
before they turn up
at the worst time possible.
He never brings the bottle
there with him in bed
so the walk to refill glasses
helps him gauge his state.
He's gone to strip clubs sober
for captive conversation.
He has shallow, meaningless sex
with shallow, meaningless people.
He doesn't get to see their eyelids anymore.
He's gifted his seed, though not for the money.
There's a cenotaph for his dignity somewhere
but no one will give him the address.
And if you see him out there
careening through the streets
please remind our vagabond
that addiction is addiction.

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