I’m sober now for weeks.
the trick is to only hate yourself sometimes.
back when you knew me
my drinking drew reproachful glances
even from russians.
i went to job interviews with whiskey on my breath,
hid pints of ancient age under my hostel bunk.
you ask me about san francisco
and all i can tell you is it’s the best place
i’ve ever been dead.
it’s been 8 years i think since we did those drugs we found
in the civic center,
and jittered with the cherry blossoms in the
japanese tea garden.
we heard rumors there were bison
kept somewhere near the ocean,
where everything is made of money.
now it’s been 4 years with a roof over my head
and i’ve been in love with a woman that whole time.
i have pills that mitigate the damage in my skull
and the shadow forms no longer call.
i swear i’ll visit you in canada someday
when the u.s. hegemonster wears out its welcome
and the ocean rises to meet the bison.
– M L Woldman