from the precipice there i sat i stared
at all the earth's  truths laid bare
laid bare there the naked truth
no beautiful siren of delphi
no open **** no wound

no one to tell you where to put it
or pare down complicated lies
like train bar cars in
cold swiss mountain
moonlight

falling off the stool forgetting now where
'near zurich'  (bar car bartender)
'perhaps  sir has had enough'
tell 'got a good handle on it'
handle being 60 ounces
fade to blackout
80 proof
****