during my worst times<br />on the park benches<br />in the jails<br />or living with<br />whores<br />I always had this certain<br />contentment-<br />I wouldn't call it<br />happiness-<br />it was more of an inner<br />balance<br />that settled for<br />whatever was occuring<br />and it helped in the<br />factories<br />and when relationships<br />went wrong<br />with the<br />girls.<br />it helped<br />through the<br />wars and the<br />hangovers<br />the backalley fights<br />the<br />hospitals.<br />to awaken in a cheap room<br />in a strange city and<br />pull up the shade-<br />this was the craziest kind of<br />contentment<br /><br />and to walk across the floor<br />to an old dresser with a<br />cracked mirror-<br />see myself, ugly,<br />grinning at it all.<br />what matters most is<br />how well you<br />walk through the<br />fire.