DRUNKS

	   for my father, and the people who almost saved his life

         We died of pneumonia in furnished rooms
         where they found us three days later
         when somebody complained about the smell
         we died against bridge abutments
         and nobody knew if it was suicide
         and we probably didn't know either
         except in the sense that it was always suicide
         we died in hospitals
         our stomachs huge, distended
         and there was nothing they could do
         we died in cells
         never knowing whether we were guilty or not.

         We went to priests
         they gave us pledges
         they told us to pray
         they told us to go and sin no more, but go
         we tried and we died

         we died of overdoses
         we died in bed (but usually not the Big Bed)
         we died in straitjackets
         in the DTs seeing God knows what
         creeping skittering slithering
         shuffling things

         And you know what the worst thing was?
         The worst thing was that
         nobody ever believed how hard we tried

         We went to doctors and they gave us stuff to take
         that would make us sick when we drank
         on the principle of so crazy, it just might work, I guess
         or maybe they just shook their heads
         and sent us places like Dropkick Murphy's
         and when we got out we were hooked on paraldehyde
         or maybe we lied to the doctors
         and they told us not to drink so much
         just drink like me
         and we tried
         and we died

         we drowned in our own vomit
         or choked on it
         our broken jaws wired shut
         we died playing Russian roulette
         and people thought we'd lost
         but we knew better
         we died under the hoofs of horses
         under the wheels of vehicles
         under the knives and bootheels of our brother drunks
         we died in shame

         And you know what was even worse?
         was that we couldn't believe it ourselves
         that we had tried
         we figured we just thought we tried
         and we died believing that we hadn't tried
         believing that we didn't know what it meant to try

         When we were desperate enough
         or hopeful or deluded or embattled enough to go for help
         we went to people with letters after their names
         and prayed that they might have read the right books
         that had the right words in them
         never suspecting the terrifying truth
         that the right words, as simple as they were
         had not been written yet

         We died falling off girders on high buildings
         because of course ironworkers drink
         of course they do
         we died with a shotgun in our mouth
         or jumping off a bridge
         and everybody knew it was suicide
         we died under the Southeast Expressway
         with our hands tied behind us
         and a bullet in the back of our head
         because this time the people that we disappointed
         were the wrong people
         we died in convulsions, or of "insult to the brain"
         we died incontinent, and in disgrace, abandoned
         if we were women, we died degraded,
         because women have so much more to live up to
         we tried and we died and nobody cried

         And the very worst thing
         was that for every one of us that died
         there were another hundred of us, or another thousand
         who wished that we could die
         who went to sleep praying we would not have to wake up
         because what we were enduring was intolerable
         and we knew in our hearts
         it wasn't ever gonna change

         One day in a hospital room in New York City
         one of us had what the books call
         a transforming spiritual experience
         and he said to himself

         I've got it
         (no you haven't you've only got part of it)

         and I have to share it
         (now you've ALMOST got it)

         and he kept trying to give it away
         but we couldn't hear it
         the transmission line wasn't open yet
         we tried to hear it
         we tried and we died

         we died of one last cigarette
         the comfort of its glowing in the dark
         we passed out and the bed caught fire
         they said we suffocated before our body burned
         they said we never felt a thing
         that was the best way maybe that we died
         except sometimes we took our family with us

         And the man in New York was so sure he had it
         he tried to love us into sobriety
         but that didn't work either, love confuses drunks
         and he tried and still we died
         one after another we got his hopes up
         and we broke his heart
         because that's what we do

         And the worst thing was that every time
         we thought we knew what the worst thing was
         something happened that was worse

         Until a day came in a hotel lobby
         and it wasn't in Rome, or Jerusalem, or Mecca
         or even Dublin, or South Boston
         it was in Akron, Ohio, for Christ's sake

         a day came when the man said I have to find a drunk
         because I need him as much as he needs me
         (NOW
         you've got it)

         and the transmission line
         after all those years
         was open
         the transmission line was open

         And now we don't go to priests
         and we don't go to doctors
         and people with letters after their names
         we come to people who have been there
         we come to each other
         and we try
         and we don't have to die