i look at
   the bottle,
inquisitively.
the bottle
   i *****
with my hand
  nears empty.

the answers
  i seek
are not any
clearer.
maybe the
  next one
will help me
  draw nearer.

i twist off
  another and then yet another.
  the spirits
this night,
  my friend,
my intoxicating lover.

my table is
  littered with
tears drops
   and bottles.
ashes and
   images of
hot brunette models.

as i glance
around,
i admire
  life in double.
i beg
  my new friend
to keep me
  from trouble.

the answers
  it promised
have staggered away.

but alas...

  it still
promises
friendship
each and
  every day.


'Yours and everyone's concrete-poet'