Year after year, I go broke
keeping peace with my bad habits.
I drink again the stale champagne
of the failed campaign.

I go to a given bar again and again for comfort
Six months later, it reminds me
of the bad times so bad that I get diarrhea.

Over the years, this confrontation
with daily life and its opposite
is too instructive.

I still say I’ll take crazy
over the other thing.

But it seems
that no amount of strangeness
will save me.