SCAPEGOAT

i spit scarred shit that i lived .. .. you/ no faces/ no faces/ at all/ laughing at nothing-/ let me tell you/ i have drunk in skidrow rooms with/ imbecile winos/ whose cause was better/ whose eyes still held some light/ whose voices retained some sensibility,/ and when the morning came/ we were sick but not ill,/ poor but not deluded,/ and we stretched in our beds and rose/ in the late afternoons/ like millionaires/