No man has opened himself up
to utter destruction
like the man with no friends.
He nods while voices in the bar
oil the machinery of enjoyment.
He is always on the wrong side of fun.
The voices all around are heavy
with the two American verbs: Put and Got.
“I got a woman and I put it in her,”
brag the men.
“I put out and got what I wanted,”
brag the women.
And the voices caroming off the walls
will always be more important
than the continents
of things he does not say.
He laughs when he speaks
to let you know he fears you.
It’s an old servants’ trick.
To the friendless old man
with pomaded hair,
we are all members of usurping tribes.
He gestures to the laughing crowd
and says:
“I always forget
which of us is Scylla
and which is Charybdis.
Just watch out.”
