sweet bliss

teetering out
of the bar, eyes wet
with
alcohol, he stumbles,
and falls
against a wall.
he lies down.
the stars are above him.
the long
black wires strung from
pole to pole,
the soft
glow of a pink lamp.
he's happy.
this is bliss
before dying.
wrapped cold in his own
arms,
unbuttoned,
broke
and old. the thought
of his mother
crosses
over him.
from one ear to the other.
she's whispering,
she's holding
him. she's saying something
he's never heard
before.
not from her lips.