George stood in the hallway
guzzling vodka
straight from the bottle
he had hidden in the closet
hello bottle, hello closet
my friends
I am happy you are still here
right where I left you
nestled in an old box
filled with photos, a yearbook
someone else’s
yellowed love letters
for all the momentum
youth’s exuberant trajectory
wet with promise
things were supposed to be different
am I a good man?
or bad?
too little?
too much?
if only sun was warmer
or the sky lower
if I were different –
different than I always will be
I would not need you
to be so much more
than just a bottle
and just a closet