The empty bottle in the room

Is my companion on the bed.

Light screaming through the window

Blinking ghostly garish red.

Stripped Paint hanging from the ceiling

Torn Linoleum on the floor.

Old radiator hissing

Heard over the L-train roar.

 I do not know how I got here

Where I am or what I did do.

To find myself in this hell

With shadowy dreams of you.

 I will be gone in the morning

 In clothes filthy dirty that stink.

 And I’ll panhandle money

 To buy yet another drink

When your note said it was over

I knew all the good times were past.

Now my new lover is the face

At the bottom of the glass.

Soon enough the police will find me

Dead in an alley behind the street.

An Oklahoma drifter

A man you once loved called Pete.

Raymond Morrow