To stop pretending
is a long process
I blow my strength
on religion, alcohol, sex—
every institution that both promises
and prevents release
The drinks mortgage the pain
I know I’m due
One stool over, the King of the World
spends all that’s his to find the last honest man
just to shake his bony hand
But I’ve joined the morass of personal agendas
that carry the night nowhere
I swim with the fishiest of them
There are many kinds of death
in which the deceased
refuse to see what has happened
It’s not the first or last Saturday night,
I tell myself
It’s Saturday night,
I tell myself
–Colin Dodds