I Am 'still' Here Poem by James McLain

Drunk I no longer drink
I never really was I suspect
how I tried.
I smile through
to the middle of the night,
as I climb out through the old window
onto the near frozen slick metal grate.
I enjoy it most when it's freezing.
Requiring more effort it's for a just cause
in retrospect you all would deny it.
I piss down across through the grate.
The ice sickles come morning are pale yellow to
like dawn long since gone have you noticed.
Besides my bones creak and the switch
works no longer in the cold bath room.
And it's a safe kind of fun for all who pass by.
Compliments By the dozens, I can't help but laugh.
Asking of me always why mine are differant.
I am still driven mad
by the young stars I see when I gaze straight across
in my view
with this new telescope.
A gift from some one who died to some one who cared.
Colored posies and rings out there come and circle it.



c.b.