Hog butcher, wheat stacker,
freight handler—doesn't matter
how far
you've fallen,
what sort of miserable
scoundrel you are,
there's always a weathered neighborhood
stoop around here somewhere—
that's warped
and sunken just low-
down enough to suit your posture—
with lots of peeling paint
designs, to hallucinate
their
disappointed faces in—
and a nice red white and silver
Pabst can
for the butts and ashes.