Went to drown sorrows with Martin P Crace

who'd lost his job and was staring into the

abyss, it looked him straight in the face.

Cheap beer in a badly decorated room

and talk turned to getting smashed to take

minds away from the impending doom.

Sang drunken blues into the early hours

and danced with the black girls down at 

the Moss Side community centre.

Chased off by the black boys, jealous that

white men would have balls bigger than

theirs and move lithe like mountain lions.

Martin got lucky, Denise, she was older,

pesters him still, he'll call now it's colder.

I was thankful that I could walk after trying

to help a friend drink himself to death one

night with the last of my diminishing funds

that were not meant for entertainment,

and even more thankful that I didn't end

a night in a strange place, house, woman's

embrace, threatening to make me bend

and using some implement to humiliate,

dehumanise, she sounded like a real lunatic,

you got lucky there, made him suffer before.

I bade you goodnight and meandered home

and thanked god that I made it in one piece.

Summer turned to Autumn that night,

And I began to hibernate in my rented room,

Turned against the cold front, until the

spring returns and all things reproduce again.

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