Not exactly taciturn, he shared his bottle openlynBattered, banished, ill-rememberednTerrified of something seennWe grew to reek of martyrdomnAnd (our) mutual misanthropynCertain pleasures taken from himnNever meant to want to bennEmptier known as a numbernnLack of luck would not explainnHis traveling for safety's sanctionnStanding on his head an alwaysnLanding on his feetnCasting blame and laughingnIn facetious conversationnCertain pleasures in return henNever meant to want to bennEmptier known an a numbernnThey found him cold this morningnThey found him cold at dawn