whiskey talk

i met him in a crowded bombay bar
my table had an extra chair
the drink went down, we got to talk
and he laid out his troubles and despair.

he spoke of darkness, and the killings
where boundaries of religion and peoples were rife
destroying the caring, the creating, the growing
the true whys and wherefores of life.

he spoke of his loves, and his soft pulpy heart
said he'd loved each as he'd loved his song
giving a part of his soul with every farewell
and if on purpose he chose them wrong.

he spoke of saving what remained of himself
for what, he didn't know anymore
of small variations to break the routine
making each day a little different from before.

and when it was time to go he took my number
saying we'd catchup again sometime
said this could've easily been your story
just as easily as it could've been mine.