misquoting marx

there is something very calming
about a gaggle of middle-aged men
feeding their addictions together
misquoting marx over value-brand cigarettes
and pints of draught. i'm beginning
to know them, to recognize their rants
although they know not mine, this room
full of fathers white and tired with hearts
warmed by habit. some of us just have
a harder time of it. but we understand
eachother, i think, we solitary social bunch.
it is, whether you'll take my word for it
or not, a very honest enterprise: alcoholism.