I WISH I WAS A BETTER MAN LIKE GUNGA DIN
I see teardrops
on my window—
must have been
weeping all night
since my wife left.
I dream of the
sweet oblivion
around the corner
as I trudge along
doing time with
my empty life
with no chance
of parole.
If only I could join
the French Foreign
Legion, I might welcome
getting shot after I blow
my bugle loud and clear
for one and all to hear.