He staggered
from the bistro
and at a glance
he looked for all the world
the usual sort of drunk
who guzzled down
a lot of bottled beer
But though his shirt
was crumpled
his tie was very straight
and so I wasn't sure
Toppling on a tightrope
of feigned sobriety
he veered down
where sandwiched
between the baits and jibes
this tired old goat
belched forth at ease
his malted breaths
dangling in the awkward air
Before they closed
in his besotted eyes
I thought I glimpsed
a tragedy
and
wondered
if his wife had died
Philippa Lane
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/drunk-on-a-train/
