Days of Wine and Roses

When we were drunk, suspended out in time,
remember needing booze to start the climb
back into day? We managed to survive,
don’t ask me how… how we are still alive.
We racked and cracked, but never owned a dime.

The railroad signals drone their ding-ding chime
beside the park. That rented hole sublime
is one fine domicile, our classic dive
when we were drunk.

Backed up, no place to turn but petty crime,
disgusted with the filth, the constant grime,
I looked (for starters) to escape this hive.
I must get off that certain deathly drive.
Those “days of wine and roses” of our prime…*
when we were drunk.

* “Vitae Summa Brevis” (1896) Ernest Dowson