I drink
make Yuri cry
get scared, lose heart
and skip work—

I’ve got no good points.
No pride
no shame,
a worthless drunk.

I could fault myself
in limitless ways—
standing up, sitting down
in the middle of this smallish, damp room—

I’m a useless fool.
but at this point to whom could I complain?

Would anyone even nod
“I understand,”
or try to calm me
“It’s all right, it’s okay . . .”

Like the roadside beggar
raising high his voice—
“I am a beggar!”
Wretched world.