the worst of roads

it's a step forward,
a stumble
backwards for your lost friend
flush with money,
new shoes,
a pint of rail gin.
his bundled clothes
found the next morning
at his locked shelter door,
ignoring curfew
and sleeping
in a ten dollar bed
with a woman
he met on the street
and gave a light.
the rest was negotiable.
on the sauce
once more, he calls
and laughs. out of work again.
tragedy and comedy
so closely linked
as he struggles in the wind,
always
taking the easiest
and worst of roads.