I am dying of sadness and alcohol

he said to me over the bottle

on a soft thursday afternoon

in an old hotel room by the train depot.

I have, he went on, betrayed myself with

belief, deluded myself with love

tricked myself with sex.

the bottle is damned faithful, he said.

the bottle will not lie.

meat is cut as roses are cut

men die as dogs die

love dies like dogs die,

he said.

listen, Ronny, I said,

lend me 5 dollars.

love needs too much help, he said.

hate takes care of itself.

just 5 dollars, Ronny.

hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.

I'll pay you back in a week.

stick with the thorn

stick with the bottle

stick with the voices of old men in hotel rooms.

I ain't had a decent meal, Ronny, for a

couple of days.