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

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