He's an awful drunk

Beats his wife
Scares his kids

Smashes the doors

leading to and from
their home and hearts

He's a quiet man

Chooses precise words
Says them calmly

Until blood alcohol reaches
all time highs

He's my neighbor

My cousin
My uncle
My dad
My man.

He's in jail
Just out of jail
Back in jail

Somewhere Halfway

In a Purgatory
of sorts

He's the Killer
The Driver
The Stabber

Or He's Dead
Drowned
Stabbed

He's a fisherman filling racks for winter

His trade for cash
doesn't cover
the fossil fuel he consumes
the fermented alcohol

He listens to the Jesuits and other young
adventurers with jobs at the radio station
their hollow laughter
and sports and lip-synching programs.

And he wonders?

When he's older
he might sit at the post office and watch people go by

Check keyed boxes

He fishes
Takes meager cash
to a cabby
who puts him up in a Motel
sells him drink

He drinks
Hollers
Staggers

Bothers the imported folks
in town making ten times his cash wage

to provide some sort of service
to make his life better

More Fulfilling

He's the one who

Disconnects the Cable TV and Nintendo

Stops feeding his kids pop and chips

Takes them hunting and eats with them too

Smiles with his eyes

Carries himself proud

He is my friend

And I love him
anyways

All ways
Always.