NaPoWriMo # 5 Thunderbird

The old homeless man dove into the pool.
Cool water soothed the summer night’s heat.
The moon reflected off the water,
the man saw all his life’s mistakes reflecting in the moon.

Why did he leave Martha for another,
his lover, the bottle?
His son he never knew; John grew up fatherless.
Why did he leave home at 16,
never speaking to his own father again,
Breaking his mother’s heart?

Liquor’s seductive voice called him,
and he always followed her,
always listened to her
She was his only counselor.

Sure, He’d cleaned up for a while,
Many times,
fooling no one but himself,
but he’d always went back to her, again
and again, and again

He could feel the Thunderbird wine
running through his head floating in the cool water.
He wondered if it was too late,
to late, for him to change,
probably,
he thought,
gazing up at the moon.

April 5, 2009