the last song you’ve ever listen to,
the last conversation that took
until the first break of dawn,
the unnoticeable look in your grandfather,
the grip you hold
in the neck of the bottle
of beer,
the friday night drunk workers,
the batchmates
and their indifferent
futures,
the longest drags of cigarettes
in every corner of the streets
known to man,
the yearning desperations of
a widow,
ambitions of a drunk under
a street lamp,
the life you’re living,
it’s counterparts
and the main problem
of it:

god only favors
those whose lives
aren’t much different
than his.