Ill Fit
in his world he is a captain
a leader of legions of battle ready warriors
from his gold embroidered cap
to his shined boots
woven into the fabric of his green fatigues
he is the master strategist
the holder of humankind fate
a winner among the losers
from where i see him
the illusion is quite different
a drunken old man teetering down my street
white hair, white beard, white bag
concealing a bottle of whiskey
he stopped, took a long pull, then
carefully resealed the bottle
so as not to lose one precious drop
he teetered on
talking to no one in particular
gesturing with his free hand
making everything in his world
fit.
Copyright © 1997