Drunk On A Park Bench

I will sit here.  Drink another beer  smoke another cigarette,  alone.  And contemplate  nothing.     Meanwhile,  Drunk Punk Mike stands on his corner  with his white witch wife  talking about 1977  when  people were alive.     Larribe the hippie  drinks mint tea in the Jewish Quarter of Tangier  talking about Katherine Hepburn and The Rolling Stones.     The w***e in Singapore I got drunk with  who admonished me for feeling so so sorry for myself  still sits there with her teenage face  talking of beautiful things.     and     I will become this bench  punctured with splinter wounds,  watch man descend into chaos  hoping for the rise of woman  with a Teak smile.  Then decompose like stagnant driftwood.