As he drinks his whiskey neat,
He stares blankly at your seat.

Over and over pretending to
be meek, his eyes begged bellow.

Off to the races, what a confused
fellow. Time for the search party.

Who can blame him, try finding
someone who simply can't compete.

Like digging someone else's hole,
only it's beneath your feet.

Sure the fish are plenty, somehow
he feels the odds are steep.

Many times he wished it all
away, but those are his to keep.

-a.j.León