we get drunk below the battery watching
as our happiness escapes
brine-chapped lips which offer gratitude
for California's grapes,
and so much more -- for company this fine
for the vintners and their wine,
whilst the happiness escapes

i get drunk below the battery
eyes absorbing harbor and its bay.
[the last time i had seen so many ships
i was bearing for Calais
still facing toward the paling cliffs of Dover,
those ghosts of giants staunchly on display
and heavily from woe to woe tore over
the brevity of life and then moreover
the sun which likewise set on faint Calais
resigning from the sky though wont to say:
fear not, man, physics does compel me
to rise again and grant another day]

a listless light strewn through the barren trees
a godless little stretch of Baltimore
and hesitatingly our senses note
the way we keep a certain false rapport
with the happiness that spatters when we pour
too eagerly -- a fault we've learned by rote
from our elders who have done as much before
but hide it in the folds of all their years
as though that stern and circumspect facade
adequately veils what disappears
while rummaging their hearts for faith in God
a fate at which we laugh till brought to tears

we get drunk below the battery
i drink from the cup that is too sweet to pass
i fill myself with all its garnet bliss
for life is quick as glints upon a glass
and many moments like this we will miss
if we analyze the glimmer's fleeting shapes
not satisfied with merely being happy
whilst the happiness escapes