Nirvana

His shirt is unbuttoned
his feet are bare
His mustache is still military regulation
has been for years.
He drags on a cigarette
holds a bottle of beer
while Connie Francis wails from
the kitchen of his yellow
trailer.
There are stains on his slacks
on his walls
his fingers
the floor.
Stains everywhere
ugly browns and greys
sticky and oily and
smelly
Many times he sat
in this very chair-
wanting
wanting
wanting
a friend
another cigarette
a cat
or one more bottle
of anything.
For years he wanted
more
than this.
More than disappointment
failure,
overdrawn accounts,
foreclosures,
parking tickets,
custody battles,
two week notices,
wives,
girlfriends,
restraining orders,
cuts
bruises
lottery tickets
and lunch meat sandwiches.
He is tired of wanting
and tonight
he will be
happy.