Not exactly taciturn, he shared his bottle openly   Battered, banished, ill-remembered   Terrified of something seen   We grew to reek of martyrdom   And (our) mutual misanthropy   Certain pleasures taken from him   Never meant to want to be      Emptier known as a number      Lack of luck would not explain   His traveling for safety's sanction   "Standing on his head an always   Landing on his feet"   Casting blame and laughing   In facetious conversation   Certain pleasures in return he   Never meant to want to be      Emptier known an a number      They found him cold this morning   They found him cold at dawn