Many Friends

many friends beside tequila
many ears without ice at the bottom
many tongues that don’t fret
and yet

a drink doesn’t talk back
shots have no sense
they only remind me
of what’s gone and good

the drama of the stairs
of the front door
tragedies in gardens
by the bent daffodils
or single syllables
kinked or pitted

a bird of sound
alert pecking
in flocks or alone