Old Dogs

SEPTIC


there's
something about
a dingy neighborhood
drinking establishment
that gives me a feeling
of protective comfort
a cozy isolation
from the inane world
tittering insanely
about us

there's
an acceptance
or more accurately
a communal affliction
a common malaise
where a newcomer
after a few drinks
of inebriated initiation
becomes and easy member
in a greater society
of similar
strangers

there's
the conversation
uninhibited by reflection
capable of rising above
the mundane levels
of human capacity
the participants
not caring if theories
can withstand the sobering
rational light of day
happy to wallow
in the relative intelligence
of a perverted pool
of knowledge

there's
the desire
of that deranged group
to celebrate that sordid life
on its own unsavory terms
something they're unable to do
in life's other venues
incapable of relating
to any nonalcoholic
endeavors of
futility

there's
the fact
that even shit
will rise to the top
if the sewer's contents
are even more
viscous and
vile

I am content
to just float
for awhile