another six month drunken streak you're skidding towards
a hault somewhere down the block
your car folds up like a deck of cards over the hydrant
fumbling for the break barely braced for impact

cops and firetrucks line the street with your head
against a wall and the local bar
eyes up on the stars while your mind's down the hall
you've drifted away and not soon to return

not written for anyone, just scribed.