The Lancean Specificity
Vodka Dave
standing in the breadline on Saturday morning
When I looked back then he was there
Vodka Dave and his soul to save
With a rosary round his neck
And what that fuzz was was that hair
That bristled from him everywhere
In the breadline there behind me
Where someone there gave Vodka Dave
A Holy Bible to libel
His drinking because such a wreck
He was one does not look away
And he was thinking of drinking
Able to under the table
I tried not to let him find me
Alone with trouble of my own
And yet he did his id his breath
His hidden bitterness stinking
Unanswered questions in the air
Somewhere between vodka and death
Some things one does not come thinking
Of for the love of Saturday
Morning with no warning that way
His trouble mine in the breadline
When there Vodka Dave was nowhere
Somewhere between vodka and death
The line moved up and I moved on
When I looked back then he was gone
+Steven Curtis Lance
Copyright MMXI
