HE THOUGHT THE WORLD OF ME

he was at the bar
complaining
as he always did
about the fucked up state
of his life
his mountain of debt
his lack of employment
struggle to find a sane woman
his drinking problem
and affinity for pills and cocaine

basically

the general shapelessness
and meaninglessness
his life had taken on

now and then he’d stop
delivering his vomit of despair
to look at me
raise his glass
and say, ‘well, I guess
it could be worse. I could be you.’